


Fic Requests

by Sunevial



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 28,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunevial/pseuds/Sunevial
Summary: I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic promptsThis is what happened





	1. A Lantern Story

**Author's Note:**

> JKLantern: Invent a Lantern story. Go nuts with it. I'm curious to see how this results.

“So, this is a story from a couple of…months…years? Eh, the exact date doesn’t matter at this point. Anyways, so I was out running some errands, picking up some groceries at the local supermarket as normal people do on whatever day it happened to be, and this woman comes up to me with this very strangely shaped pamphlet.”

“’Excuse me, sir, do you have time to talk about Satan?’”

“I do a double take, and then actually take a look at said pamphlet. No, she was not in fact asking me about joining the local branch of the Satanic Temple, but instead was giving me a small informational booklet on the ‘dangers of Satan in the modern world’ or something like that. And I did not have time nor the patience to talk about the dangers of Satan while my frozen peas were melting.”

“So in response, I just shake my head and reply, ‘I’m a little busy today, but do you think you could set up a meeting next Thursday? It’s been so long since we last had a chat over coffee about the situation of the damned souls.’”

“The woman promptly closed her mouth and walked off somewhere else.”

“I never did get that coffee date. Kind of disappointed, honestly.”


	2. Brethil and The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: The followers meet your D&D characters
> 
> Featuring my DnD character, Brethil, the wood elf druid

Witch had seen visitors from just about every time, place, dimension, and world imaginable step through one of her doors and into the apothecary proper. After all, it was bad business to deny a customer, be they mortal, god, or something else. Even so, this was the first time in a long while that an elf had wandered into her shop. 

The newcomer looked more than a touch confused, hesitantly wandering down the shelved corridors until she reached the low counter. Brushing a lock of curly black hair out of her face, she cleared her throat and awkwardly rubbed an intricate leather bracer on her forearm. She smelled of evergreens and deep wooded places, mixed with something…distinctly magical. “Is…this the Witch’s apothecary?”

“It is,” Witch replied with a bright smile, swinging her legs as she balanced on her little stool. “And I’m the Witch. Welcome to the apothecary, miss…”

“…Brethil,” the elf hesitantly said, glancing at the much smaller woman with an expression that bordered on bafflement. That or fear. It was a bit hard to tell.

Witch giggled a touch, watching the hairs along the nape of the elf’s neck stand on end as the sound hit her ears. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Brethil. What can I do for you today?”

The elf woman slowly glanced around the shop, eyes traveling from the potted plants hanging from the ceiling to the almost endless boxes and trays of delicately bottled potions. “I…well, I need…” She let out a long sigh, shifting her weight onto her left foot. “You are a…crafter of potions, yes?”

“That’s correct, I make almost anything you could ever want.”

“…what about herbicides?”

Witch clicked her heels together, mentally tallying what she had in stock while also giving a closer look to the elven woman. Tall, strong, not unlike Huntress in a way. A woman of the wilds. How very interesting indeed. “Well, I have some weed killer in the back, I guess…but I suppose it depends on what you’re trying to kill.”

“I…need something strong enough to…potentially kill a corrupted forest elemental.” Brethil seemed to be almost hissing through her teeth, the words catching in the back of her throat as they spilled from her lips. “As it turns out…fire only goes so far when trying to manage vegetation.”

“So you’re a druid then,” Witch said with a giggle, clapping her hands together. “Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind around here. They don’t usually like us potion brewers.”

The elf woman continued rubbing her arm, eyes darting back and forth between the shelves in an attempt to land anywhere but Witch’s gaze. “It was…admittedly not my first choice to seek you out, but, well, I don’t have the skill to make something that strong.”

“Lucky for you, I do.” Almost jovially, she leapt from the stool and wandered down an aisle or two. “It’s not often that people come looking for something strong enough to decimate a forest, but I always keep a couple things on hand. I’ve got vials of Birch Bane, Sticky Fire, Whitegut Rot, Blight Dragon Bloo-”

“The dragon blood will do,” the woman hastily interjected.

“Good choice, powerful and fast acting, one of the best materials for causing widespread devastation” Witch replied, scooping up a small container of bottles into her arms. “And also not exactly cheap. This stuff is notoriously difficult to get.”

Wordlessly, Brethil removed a pouch at her side and removed the outer flap. Inside were an impressive array of red dragon scales and teeth, a couple of colorful beans, a black lotus, and a beautiful purple and white marbled flower. “I don’t know much about the exchange rates of your shop, miss Witch, but I hope this will do.”

“I think that will make more than a fair trade,” Witch replied, handing the small box up to the elf woman while nearly snatching the pouch into her own hands. Her face split with a large smile. “Will that be all or can I help you with something else?”

“That…will be all for today. Thank you for your help and…I hope your day goes well,” the elf said with a slight bow of her head, quickly turning and rushing back for the door that would lead to whatever dimension she had originally came from. It shut behind her with a bang, but not before that same strange magical scent wafted through the door.

Still smiling, Witch returned to her little stool and began sorting through her newly acquired ingredients, humming a short tune under her lips all the while.

It took her a couple of minutes before she remembered the last person who had walked in smelling like raw magic. A little boy…a little boy with bright eyes and a hunger for all manner of baked goods.

A little boy with an absolutely terrifying father figure.

Witch decided that perhaps next time, she would have to ask this Brethil woman to stay for tea.


	3. Meetup: Kikyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: A story of what would happen if Kikyo meets Meg irl

The airport was busy with the sounds of travel, mothers herding small children towards the terminals while men in suits walked as fast as their legs could carry them towards taxicabs. One young woman walked a bit slower than the rest, occasionally stopping to check the directories or glance down at her phone to make absolutely certain that yes, this was the way to baggage claim 22.

Dragging her suitcase onto a nearby escalator, Kikyo glanced around into a veritable sea of people she had never seen before, trying to spy something that looked even remotely like her Friday night DM. It wasn’t exactly going to be easy to find her online friend, given that, well, Meg was definitely on the shorter end of the spectrum. She stepped off the escalator and pulled off to the side, pulling out her phone again.

“Hey, where are you?” she texted.

Almost instantly, she got a notification on Discord. “Look up.”

In all honesty, she probably should’ve expected the tackle hug.


	4. A Kyle Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylethewarrior: I'm curious to what a kyle story would be.... and worried at the same time

“So yeah, this probably happened like, three months ago. I was walking home, you know, it’s dark out, not exactly the best time of night, and I see this little cat crossing the street. It’s a small thing, barely the size of a kitten. Now, there’s all kinds of feral cats out here and I know you’re not supposed to feed them or touch them or anything, but I had a little bit of my sandwich left and this thing looked so ragged that I figured a little food wouldn’t hurt. So I unwrap this half-eaten sandwich, leave it on the ground, and walk away.”

“Well, apparently THAT was a terrible idea, because apparently this little cat motherfucker told all of his friends, and now I’ve got like twenty of them just following me around town whenever I get the bright idea to go for a walk or something. Just a straight up militia of stray cats following me like some kind of divine bringer of food.”

“I may have…kept bringing food for them. That’s my fault.”

“On the plus side, though, no one’s tried to mug me now that I’ve got an army of strays, so eh, I suppose I can’t complain that much.”


	5. Brethil and the Murder God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: Brethil meets the murder God I'm not sorry

The nights were the worst part of it all, sitting alone in the darkness for hours on end under a sky she didn’t recognize. This far north, even the constellations weren’t the same as they were back home; the best she could make out was the northern star, and even that wasn’t a comfort. There was no way of knowing where she was; no map to help her, no paths to follow, no signs of civilized life despite months of searching for houses or farms or towns or just something, anything that would make these nights not be so utterly desolate.

Fifteen years of endless war, only to end in an instant. Or maybe it wasn’t over, and the war still raged on back home…and she would never return. Their healer, their protector, their peacemaker…their druid. Never returning from that vacation that was supposed to have done some good for her fragile mind.

At best, they probably thought she was dead or captured. At worst, that she had turned tail and abandoned them.

Her people…her grove…her home…everything she had ever known and loved. It was all gone. 

Gone like the ashes of fires that had long since died, leaving nothing but cold stars in an uncaring sky.

“It really sucks, doesn’t it? Being so alone for so long.” 

Brethil’s hairs stood on end as the voice pierced the utter silence, worming its way deep within her mind. She leapt to her feet, knocking an arrow to her bow and gazing into the darkness of the prairie. Her body not used to such sudden movements anymore, her vision blurred at the edges to the point where her footing began to give.

The voice laughed, harsh and unforgiving on her ears, almost as if it was mocking her for even thinking she had a chance. “I wouldn’t bother with that, it’s not like an arrow would hurt me very much. Besides, you look barely strong enough to stand, let alone hurt something more dangerous than a rabbit.”

Almost unwillingly, Brethil felt her arms fall to her sides as she dropped back down beside the cold ashes. With trembling arms, she grabbed her head and shook it furiously. “G-get out…please just get out and go away.” Her voice was hoarse and rough, the words broken and barely understandable after so long of saying…nothing at all.

“Oh you poor thing, how long have you been like this? Wandering alone and scared in a world that doesn’t make much sense anymore, torn from your home and your people into this strange land where the laws of nature don’t even apply…I’m surprised you’re still standing after all this time,” The voice was softer now, gentle, resting on her mind like a blanket in the dead of winter. It was…comforting. It was…smothering.

“Who…who are you…h-how do you know all of this?” Brethil whispered, digging her fingers into her ears as far as they would go while desperately trying to remember her teachings. All manner of things would want to make deals with the desperate: ghosts, demons, devils, fae, angels, gods…

The voice chuckled, and for the first time, Brethil felt a hand delicately touch the top of her shoulder. “I’m someone who seeks out the lonely and the lost and takes them in, gives them a home and a chance to be a part of something greater than they could have ever been alone,” it…no, she said, the words twisting their way ever deeper into Brethil’s mind. “I am a storyteller and an artist, I am the comfort of sleep, I grant wishes and help solve problems, my sweet little druid.”

Brethil didn’t shake off the physical contact, almost leaning into it out of a deep burning desire to just be touched by someone, anyone, even if it was this…creature she couldn’t quite place. The being seemed to sense this, draping her arms over Brethil’s shoulders in a tight embrace. Shaking, Brethil removed her fingers from her ears and swallowed a touch, sinking into the hug. “I…I can’t…I need to find…my way back…find out what happened…fix this mess…”

“I told you I can grant wishes, didn’t I?” Brethil felt a head lean in close to her ear and pulling her tighter, almost…possessively. “You have fought for so long, helping so many people and sacrificing so much of yourself. You’ve burned so brightly, you’re a druid of the flames and fire, and you know better than anyone that fires can’t burn forever.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, loving, almost caressing in its tone. “The world isn’t your responsibility to fix. You need rest. Come with me, and I’ll find a way to fix the world for you”

The soothing tone was enough for Brethil to get lost in, and in some ways, the woman was not wrong. She had healed, she had bled, she had burned, she had tossed fitfully in unrestful trances just wanting to do some good in the world. And she was tired. There was nothing she wanted more than to collapse into the arms of the strange woman and for once, just give over to some proper sleep, to let someone else take up the reins for once in her life.

“…you are very kind,” Brethil finally said, sighing as she rested her own arms against that of the stranger and lightly grasping them. “But I’ll have to refuse your offer.” With one strong motion, she wrenched the arms from her body and leapt towards her scimitar.

There was a roaring screech from the woman as Brethil finally laid eyes on the creature that had been whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It was a short woman floating in midair, short blonde hair framing piercing golden eyes. She wore a simple red dress that whipped furiously in the non-existent winds, red marks forming on her pale skin. “How dare you touch me like that!”

Brandishing her sword in one arm, Brethil took up her wand in the other, holding the two aloft as she could feel fire burning behind her eyes. “How dare you try and take advantage of my exhaustion to try and steal yourself a body,” Brethil replied in a low tone, old stories of a devilish-deal maker surfacing to the forefront of her memory. “Your promises aren’t wanted here, godling.”

“Fine, see if I care, you uncultured backwater hick elf!” the woman shrieked, her eyes turning a blinding red. “Go and keep wandering this broken world completely and totally alone for all I care! Try and fix this world and watch yourself fail, like all the others who failed before you. You call yourself a druid of destruction, but you’re too much of a coward to even do that!”

There was nothing else in Brethil’s mind but searing, blinding rage as fire shot from the tip of her sword and towards the floating woman. There was no scream from her lips, just a single strand of calm words in pitch perfect elvish. “The land needed stewardship, and so I became a caretaker. The people needed guidance, and so I became a leader. The soldiers needed aid, and so I became a healer.” With a wave of her arms, the winds around them began to swirl around the two of them, biting at clothing and tearing through the grasses below. “The world needs strength. And if it needs a storm, then godsdamn it, I’ll become the storm.”

And she screamed out with the full wrath of nature’s fury.

And the woman was gone.

And once again, the druid was left alone under cold stars.


	6. Witch and Strange Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: Witch meets Ista and Tamoquen?
> 
> Featuring Ista the Seer and Tamoquen the Crafter, characters belonging to Draco

“…you want what now?”

The tall elf woman slammed her hand onto the counter, dark hair framing eyes burning with a mixture of rage and creative passion. “You heard me. I need enough mirthril or true silver or adamantine or whatever it is you happen to call it to make an arm.”

Witch glanced the woman up and down, her gaze eventually landing on the severed stump that served as the woman’s other working upper appendage. “I mean, I can certainly get you the materials, but I’m not exactly a smith, mis-”

“Tamoquen. Just Tamoquen,” the elf curtly interrupted. “And I can make it myself. I just need the mithril.”

Blinking once, then twice, Witch mulled the numbers for a second or two before deciding it was best not to argue with the obviously insane woman. She cleared her throat and walked around to the other side of the counter, pointing down a row of shelves. “You’ll find a box of mithril ore down at the end of this row, there’s probably enough in there for what you need. That being said, I will nee-”

Before Witch could finish her sentence, or process where exactly she had grabbed all this material from, the elf woman shoved a pile of cloth into her hands and marched down the line of shelves. “Enchanted cloaks, at least two of them will turn you invisible and three of them keep out the cold,” she shouted from down the way. Without another word, Tamoquen hefted the box under her one good arm and stalked out of the apothecary, slamming the door shut behind her.

For a good few minutes, Witch just stood dumbfounded in the center of her shop, buried under a mountain of elven-made cloaks.

Did…did that actually just happen?

* * *

Like clockwork, the first Thursday of every third month meant the door to ‘Middle Earth’ would open up, bringing along one of her more eccentric but certainly highest paying customers. At hearing the creaking sound, Witch sat up a bit more in her stool and put on a bright smile. “Ah, Tamoquen, here for your orde-”

Witch barely had enough time to duck out of the way of a wooden mug racing towards her head at Mach 5, dropping behind the counter as it hit the back wall with enough force to make a dent in the wood panelling. Fury burning in her eyes, she stood back up with a sickly sweet smile plastered onto her face. “Now that’s a rude way to come into my shop.” 

As she peered over the edge of the counter, she was not greeted with the sight of the elf woman with an arm of gleaming silver. Instead, an older woman with a gnarled staff lazily looked up at her, gray eyes seemingly piercing through her soul.

“The pleasure is all mine, Margaret Touchstone,” the woman said in deadpan, lazily yawning as she leaned onto the intricate piece of wood in her hands. “So what is it that keeps you looking young, all the murder or the sadism coursing through your veins?”

“Probably both,” Witch said with a chipper voice, the fury still smoldering within her body but slowly being replaced with a dawning realization. “And given you know all that stuff about me, you must be a diviner.”

“Seer, actually,” Tamoquen called out from the back, hauling a box under her arm and tossing a small bag of gemstones and enchanted metalworks onto the counter. “Her name’s Ista. Insisted on coming. Said something about ‘wanting to meet the devil herself’.”

“Oh no, that’s my boss,” Witch replied with a giggle. “I’m just the face of it all.”

“Well you’re plenty enough a bitch to be one,” the older woman replied dryly, hitting her staff against one of the shelves and eying a particularly well polished rock on the shelf. She swiped it without a second glance and dropped it into her pouch.

Witch gave an eyebrow raise. “And how are you going to be paying for that returning stone?”

Ista just gave her a long piercing look, her gray eyes hard as steel and cold as ice. “I keep you and everything you’ve ever done out of my log books.”

A pause. “Then I think we have a deal, Seer Ista.”

The woman simply snorted and turned away, though not before launching another mug for Witch’s head. 

Sighing, Witch turned to Tamoquen, who looked about as exasperated as Witch felt. “Your friend is…interesting,” she slowly said.

“You should be proud. I think she might actually respect you,” Tamoquen replied with a tired shrug of her shoulders.

“She ever sets foot in this shop again and I’m closing that door permanently.”

“That’s fair.”


	7. Meetup: Kyle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylethewarrior: I know I'm stealing this from kikyo buuuuut. If I met you IRL?

Meg sincerely couldn’t remember if anyone had ever deadlifted her within two seconds of meeting up, but she certainly wasn’t about to complain.


	8. Meetup: Lantern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jklantern: If Meg met Lantern in real life, because When in Slobobia, do as the other Slobs do.

In the distance, there was a sound of joyous laugher, followed shorty by horrified shouts and a long string of expletives as another laughed hysterically.

This, of course, was simply a normal Tuesday for the disaster siblings, the only difference being the shouting was taking place in person.


	9. Meetup 2: Kikyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: Kikyo meets Meg irl 2: electric boogaloo (idk i enjoyed the last one lmao)

This time, Kikyo had come prepared. She knew the route, she knew her friend’s intense hugging habits, and more importantly, she better knew how to spot the small woman out of a crowd. No surprises this time, no getting lost, and most importantly, this time she would be the one to surprise Meg.

Taking one of the side elevators, Kikyo carefully slipped into the crowd, blending in with the endless crowd as she carefully and quickly scanned for her quarry. All she needed to find was a girl with short brown hair, probably wearing one of her longer coa-

“Kikyo!”

The sudden hug made Kikyo realize that she had forgotten to take into account that Meg was considerably shorter.


	10. Anabel in Middle Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: What would happen if, say, Baradel, Cian, and Fuineon met one of your ocs. Choose who you think is best.
> 
> Featuring Baradel the fighter, Cian the bard, Fuineon the rogue (from Draco), and Anabel, Guardian of Time

“Wait, are you a goddess?” Baradel towered above Anabel, her silver-blonde hair blowing fiercely in the coastal winds, trident in one hand and Anabel’s shirt collar in the other.

Sighing, Anabel slowly brought her hands up to the sides of her face. “Though not a name I would use for myself, there have been some who have called me tha-”

As if a ragdoll, Anabel found herself being thrown clear across the rocky beach as the elven woman laughed with the sound of the sea in her voice. With a flourishing spin, she brandished her trident until the forked tips pointed directly towards her crumpled up form. “Good enough for me! You may not be one of ours, but you should be good enough sport for when I actually get to fight one the Valar. Come on, let’s see what you got!” 

Anabel was already beginning to regret stepping through that portal.

* * *

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the dwarven woman asked, slamming down what seemed to be her fourth mug of ale in the span of the last half hour.

Anabel shifted in her stool, tracing a finger along the rim of her own mug. “I am from a time that has long since past and a place that no longer exists,” she replied, taking a cautious sip of her drink.

“Then you must have all kinds of stories to tell!” she exclaimed, kicking her feet up onto the bar counter. “The name’s Cian, or Pipes if you’re feeling familial. Tell me something good, won’t ya? I’ve been starved for something new lately.”

Anabel smiled and leaned her arm onto the counter. “Well, I suppose you did buy me the drink…”

* * *

“You are the first person in a long while who has been able to understand my words,” the elven woman said, cloak pulled up tightly around her head to the point where the only thing Anabel could properly see were her eyes. “There is something…different about you.”

“It is rare for an oiliphaunt and an eagle to ever cross paths,” Anabel replied, taking a small sip of her tea. “I am…not exactly from around here.”

“I could have told you that.” There was a short pause before she spoke again. “My name is Fuineon.”

“These days, I am called Anabel.” Another pause. “What did you put in this, by the way?”

“The sleep enchanted waters of Mirkwood.”

“…it does have a rather nice flavor.”

Anabel woke up to find one of the buttons on her cloak missing and a rather nice dagger laid by her side.

She figured it would be best to simply never mention this incident ever again.


	11. Last Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> antondeni: What if... What really happened in Tarsbury was a TPK and Arabelle was the last one standing
> 
> Featuring Arabelle, an NPC from my co-dmed sessions

Laughter…that’s the only thing Arabelle could hear over the crackling flames and collapsing houses. The dead laid littered all around her, the broken bodies of old friends, innocent children, and those few mercenaries who had come to their aid. Their names hadn’t stuck, but she remembered their faces: the grim faced Haradrim ranger, the two hobbits, the quiet elf, the brazen dwarf, the Beorning…They had fought for longer than most, but one by one, they fell before sword and ax and spear alike.

And now…now, she was alone with nothing more than a sword and a shield, surrounded on all sides by sadistic beings not looking to take prisoners, and facing an orc who was heads taller than her.

Gritting her teeth, Arabelle slowly scanned her surroundings with eyes narrowed into slits, shield held tight against her body. 

She wasn’t getting out of this alive. She had accepted that long ago.

But she sure as hell wasn’t going quietly.

There was no scream, no furious burning rage, no inspiring cry to gods that didn’t give a damn about someone like her. There was just her feet pounding on stained dirt and arcs of blood singing from her blade as she cut down anything and everything in her path with a single minded cold stare. Blows bruised the skin beneath her armor, arrows bounced off the eight pointed star emblazoned into her shield, daggers nicked at her legs, poorly wrought iron met Arthedain steel. 

And still she fought, bathed in the crimson glow of the burning town and the blackened blood of those foul creatures. They tried to trip her, grapple her, force her to the ground, rip her armaments from her grip.

They tried.

And for a few precious moments, they failed.

But it was simply a numbers game in the end. Hands wrenched her arm back, pulling her to the ground as others relieved her of sword and shield alike until she was forced to kneel before the larger orc leader. She held her head high, steel gray eyes fueled with the same flames that burned around them. 

The leader looked down and her and sneered with yellowed and broken teeth, holding his battle-ax to her neck. A cruel laugh escaped his lips, echoing among the other goblin-folk surrounding them. “Are the men so desperate they resort to their women-folk taking up arms?”

Arabelle did not so much as flinch, her teeth still gritted and cold fury set in her face. “You will not win the north. Word will get back to the king, and you will see what the might of Arthedain truly looks like.”

Another crazed cackle ripped through the army as the orc simply smiled with a deep cruelty, pushing her chin up with the edge of the blade. “Maybe, but you won’t be there to see.”

There was laughter and roaring flames.

Then pain.

Then nothing at all.


	12. Meetup: Churro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> churrobird: a story in which i succeed on my quest in giving you the biggest hug in existence!

Peering out from behind a set of bushes, Churro pulled out their phone and quickly scrolled down a list of notes haphazardly scattered between various Google Doc pages, Discord messages, and the occasional nonsense meme buried in their images folder. They had to be careful, after all; not all of this information was…what was the word… 

‘Legal.’

But assuming everything went correctly, the ends would more than justify the casual blackmail, right?

Right?

Footsteps echoed from down the sidewalk, alerting Churro to their quarry. Scurrying between the low shrubbery and a small assortment of parked cars, they got into position behind a large pine tree. They fell silent, counting the seconds down from ten, heart pounding in their ears and a wide grin on their face.

At one, they leapt out from their hiding place and wrapped their arms firmly around the small figure of their internet friend. 

Meg, for her part, yelped with widened eyes. After a split second of recognition, her face split with a wide grin of her own, and she ruffled the little gremlin’s hair and returned the surprise hug. “Good to see you too, pastry gremlin.”


	13. Meetup: Ana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anatthema-art: (Because everyone is doing these and I wanna know) A story where you meet me IRL

“So remind me where we’re meeting?” Ana asked into the little microphone attached to her earbuds, scanning the seemingly endless line of foot traffic down the city street.

“In front of the sports bar,” Meg answered, the smirk almost visisble through the soundwave. “You know, the place well known for burgers.”

“MEG I SWEAR-“

A laugh came both through the phone call and from just over her right shoulder. “Then say it to my face.”


	14. A Chance Meetup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: Are you still doing the writing thingy? If so, can you do one with one of your dnd lovelies meeting small mouse child?
> 
> Featuring Ryanakiki (Kikyo's character) and my rogue, Megariel

The island of Leona, center of trade and commerce among the Isles of Aeros, a place where magical artifacts sat up against the rarest of silks and the latest in gunpowder weaponry. Dragonborn from far off lands conversed freely with triton merchants, tabaxi looking to part with fine pottery roped in elven traders looking to offload the finest of woven rugs, goblins swapped intricate clockwork inventions for gnomish elixirs and tonics among the bustling open air markets.

It was a place easy to get lost in, which is perhaps why Megariel had chosen that island as a starting place after she had left the grand city of the merfolk behind. After all, if no one batted an eye seeing aasimar and tortles hawking goods in alley ways, they certainly weren’t going to notice a little human-like girl with strange mannerisms and…fairly broken common. 

She’d have to get better at that if Leona’s division of the Outcast’s Charter was going to take her seriously. If there was one thing she desperately needed while on land, it was a functioning network of people she could count on.

Darting between the shadowed buildings, Megariel poked her head out from behind a row of boxes in one of the back warehouses. This was the artisan’s district, better known among the thieves as Jeweler’s Row for the unfathomable amount of diamonds, rubies, and especially turquoise that was delivered almost on a daily basis. 

Rumor was that if you dug deep enough into the dirt roads, you could find enough diamond dust to fund a small kingdom. 

As tempting as that was, however, Megariel needed whole jewels for the charter.

Taking her crowbar, she carefully jammed it under one of the lids and carefully turned her ears to the street. A minute, two, then the loud clopping of a horse drawn carriage bounding past. As soon as they were close enough, she pried open the lid to a small fortune’s worth of uncut sapphire and emerald. Eyes glimmering, she grabbed four handfuls worth and shoved them into her pouch before slipping the lid back on and tapping the nails back into place.

Even if someone recognized the tampering, uncut gems were less of a loss anyways.

A triumphant smile on her face, Megariel slipped both pouch and crowbar alike back into her little pack before slipping into the alley. Dusting off her clothes, she just caught sight of a tail slipping behind a small barrel around the corner. 

A spy then…

Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, she carefully stepped towards this not so subtle watcher, one hand on a small bag of ball bearings. As she turned the corner, however, she did not find a tabaxi or kobold as she had perhaps expected. Instead, there was a mouse the size of a hafling, dressed in scraps of mismatched clothing and failing to hide themselves behind a barrel. 

At seeing this, Megariel took her hand away from her pouch and jumped on top of the barrel, putting on a warm and cheerful smile. “What’cha doing there, little one?”

The little mouse startled, looking up at her with nervous eyes and twitching whiskers. “Um…I’m…hiding…” It was a high voice, likely feminine, though probably best not to assume.

Megariel tilted her head. “What from?”

“Um…you, miss. I…I thought that you…that you would…get angry if I…if I saw you,” the little mouse stammered, curling into a yet smaller ball.

“Get angry with you? Come on, thieves don’t get angry with people,” Megariel said, her smile softening. “Not good ones, anyways. Attracts too much attention, after all.”

“Oh…I…I wouldn’t know…I’m…I’m not a very good at stealing…things.” The mouse paused. “So…you’re…you’re not going to hurt me?”

“Of course not, as long as you don’t tell anyone about me,” Megariel replied with a wide grin. “It’s bad luck to hurt a fellow thief.”

The mouse-girl folded her hands over each other, the jittering slowly fading from her body. “I…didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do.” Shifting her weight on the barrel, Megariel pulled out a small pastry from her pouch and broke off half, offering some to the mouse-girl. “What’s your name?” 

“Ryana…Ryanakiki,” she replied, taking the bit of pastry and nibbling on it hesitantly, then more fervently. “Th…thank you for the food.”

“Don’t mention it, kid,” she replied, leaning back against the wall. “Call me Meg. Seems to be what everyone is these days.” 

Staring up at the rooftops, the inkling of an idea began to spin around the merfolk’s brain as she looked between the young mouse-girl and the pouch at her side. She pulled out a small uncut sapphire, holding it up to the light and peering through the murky blue surface. If she held it at just the right angle, it was almost as if she was in the waters near Azura.

If you’re going up there, remember that being generous will win you more favors than greed.

Tossing the gem into the air, she caught it and dropped it into Ryana’s lap. “Here, take this. You look like you could use it more than me.”

The little mouse caught it with widened eyes, looking back up at her with fidgeting hands. “What…what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Go to the Bravado’s Tavern and ask for a tall glass of Cheryl’s finest. Tell them Miss Turquoise sent you,” Megariel said with a smile. “I’ve got some friends who might be able to help you out, especially if you have a little money of your own.”

“B-bravado’s Tavern…tall glass of Cheryl’s finest…sent by Miss Turquoise,” Ryana repeated, nodding her head slowly. “T-thank you, miss Meg.”

“Just Meg.” She gave the little girl a pat on the head, feeling her soft fur between her finger tips, before standing up on the barrel and pulling herself onto the low hanging roof. “Hope to see you around sometime, little one,”

And with that, the little thief bounded away on the rooftops, weaving in between a thousand and one ramshackle buildings until she was lost in the crowds once more.


	15. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> churrobird: i wish you would write a fic where anabel is HAPPY (pls let my daughter smile)
> 
> Featuring Anabel

The library was bustling with the sounds of scholars and historians alike, the constant clamor just quiet enough to provide the hum Anabel needed to properly focus. She took her quill and dipped it into the ink well, pausing just enough to let the excess ink to fall from the perfectly shaped feather before setting it to the paper.

Her arm was fluid, almost moving on its own as the memories flowed from her mind into her fingertips. She danced with paper and ink, her whole body moving in time with some unheard song. Concepts became symbols, symbols became words, words became sentences, sentences became chronology, chronology became history. 

Her world was what had already come to be, time folding over itself in clockwork devices and a thousand shades of gray.

A light cough intruded upon the river she was riding, familiar enough to just be a pause instead of a blockage. Lost in her craft, she nodded her head ever so softly. Through the low hum of the magic, she felt a hand lay on her shoulder, then another hand gently wrap around her waist. She was pulled into a warm embrace, curly hair brushing up against the scarf around her head.

Smiling softly, Anabel finished the last line with a flourish and sank into the embrace, finally glancing to the individual with copper skin and piercing pink eyes. A smirk split their face, and they delicately planted a kiss onto her cheek.

“You’ve been here for almost three days,” Ewefa whispered, their voice barely louder than a breath of air. “Come on…let’s get out of here, Ana.”

With a slow care, she reached her hand up and cupped their face, feeling the bumps and ridges under her fingertips. One painstaking second after another, she drew their faces closer together until lips touched, passion flared, and the world around them shifted until they stood in darkness alone.

* * *

Anabel sighed, closing her journal and setting it off to the side.

Some memories should simply stay that.

Memories.


	16. Meetup: Anton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> antondeni: Now I'm curious as well. How do you think our meeting would go?

There was a moment of complete and utter silence between the two.

“You know…I was aware that you were short but…it is one thing to know that and another to actually see it.”

Meg gave a little chuckle and a wide smile. “You aren’t the first person to say that.”

Of course, height differences didn’t matter too much for a hug between friends.


	17. A Coffee Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: Anabel coffee shop au with her loves

Anabel’s fingers danced across the laptop keys, words spilling one after another with only momentary pauses to consult a number of charts and research papers. Her master’s thesis on ‘how historical events shape the creation of written language: the Arabic script as a case study’ was finally coming together, page by painstaking page. It had taken almost a full year of study and research before she had been anywhere confident enough to put her ideas onto paper, and that had been a year of wanting to tear out her hair in frustration.

But that was over now. Now, she could write as much as she wished.

Reaching the end of her thought bubble, Anabel scrolled to the top of the page and scanned the already written paragraphs. She leaned back in her chair, taking a small sip of her disgustingly sweet latte. It was no Turkish coffee, her personal favorite way to drink bitter bean water, but the four pumps of chocolate syrup was delicious in its own right. 

“Earth to Ana, you there?” a familiar voice asked, swooping into the chair opposite her and slowly pushing her laptop to a forty-five degree angle. She was greeted with the smiling face of Ewefa, dressed to the nines in a button up shirt and suit vest. “Now I’m expecting an answer I’m not gonna like, but how long have you been here?”

“Good to see you too,” Anabel said with a small smirk, taking a long swig of her coffee and glancing to the clock. “And if you’re going to be nosy, six hours, twenty seven minutes, and give or take thirty-six seconds”

“I still don’t know how you do that,” they said with a sigh, glancing to the small row of coffee mugs at her side. “And have you actually eaten something other than diabetes in a cup?”

“I’m going to reserve my right to not answer that question.”

Ewefa just rolled their eyes, taking their phone and quickly sending off a text. “You know that’s not healthy for you.”

“Neither is surviving off of granola bars for days at a time, but that’s neither here nor there,” Anabel replied with her own smile. “How goes the legalese?”

Ewefa huffed and leaned back on their own chair, balancing on just two of the legs, hair falling across one eye. “Oh you know, constantly getting casually misgendered and getting asked extremely invasive questions about my medical history that have nothing to do with environmental degradation,” they said with a flat, unamused tone. “So business as usual.”

Anabel’s smirk dropped, replaced with slightly scrunched up eyebrows. “That certainly doesn’t sound legal.” 

“It’s not, but considering people already think I don’t exist, I doubt HR will listen to me,” they replied with a shrug. “But I am making progress, so it could be worse.”

Her eyes twinkled. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“Touché,” they said with a chuckle, their normal grin returning to their face just as bells rang to signal the doors opening. 

A woman in her early thirties stood there, black hair pulled up into a smart bun. Two bags of Chinese takeout hung from her hands as she walked over to the two of them. Without fanfare, she planted a kiss on the top of Anabel’s head and plopped the food down onto the table. “Anabel, Ewefa. You both really need better eating habits.”

“Says the woman who works in medicine,” Ewefa said with a chuckle, opening the bag and pulling out the container of lo mein. 

Anabel flushed ever so slightly, returning the kiss. “Thanks for the dinner, Cryptlyn.”

“Of course, dear, I can’t have you dropping unconscious,” she replied, taking her own seat and removing a container of sweet and sour soup. “So put aside your work and actually eat something.”

Not about to argue with her girlfriend, Anabel closed the laptop and placed it into her bag. After breaking her chop sticks apart, she grabbed one of the rice containers and dumped in some stir-fried beef and vegetables. She mixed the two together and took a large bite, her stomach finally rumbling with a hunger she hadn’t realized was there.

Glancing between her significant other and her girlfriend, she couldn’t help but smile.

Life…life was good.


	18. Meetup?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jklantern: Ryana meets Lantern. Because I'm a terrible human being.
> 
> Featuring Ryanakiki (Kikyo's character)

“Um…excuse…excuse me, sir, but, um…I think I’m…lost,” the little mouse girl stuttered, eyes nervously darting left and right.

Lantern blinked, rubbed his eyes, then blinked again.

Yep, mouse girl was still there.

At this point, he wasn’t sure why he kept questioning situations like these.

“I think we both are, kid,” he replied, scratching his head. “Uh…do you want something to eat? I have some leftover pie on hand.”

The mouse girl slowly nodded her head. “I…I would like that, yes.”

* * *

To this day, Lantern still isn’t sure where or how or why he met little miss Ryanakiki, but the recipe for cheese tarts was certainly not to be amiss.


	19. Festival Guidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: Story of Ryana's adventures of meeting more lovely dnd folks, part 2 x3
> 
> Featuring Ryanakiki (Kikyo's character) and my kalashtar monk, Virashtai

Bells rang in the courtyard, calling out the start of the midsummer’s festival to anyone who made the mistake of remaining in bed. The sweet smell of candied apples mixed with the fragrant meat pies, aromas mixing in the air and calling adults and children alike into the already bustling streets. There was a rousing cry as the musicians began to play music fit for dancing, tumblers and acrobats using the fountain as a prop for their incredible stunts, while just a little ways away, hawkers called folks of all ages to try their luck at feats of skill and strength.

It was a chaotic frenzy of emotions and merriment, dressed up with ribbons and drowned out by the clamor of the crowd.

In other words, one of her favorite places to be.

Virashtai, for her part, sat alongside a storefront watching the shows. A white cloth was spread out near her sandaled feet, flanked by a small donation bowl and a small bag marked with an ‘s’ shaped rune. Festivals were always the best place to earn a little extra cash; after all, what better time to get a fortune read than a time of celebration? She already had a fairly steady stream of customers, each bringing their own questions and each receiving what guidance she had to offer.

And because it was midsummer, a time where it was apparently acceptable to drink during daylight hours, people were tipping very well.

A rousing cheer went up from the fountain performances. She craned her neck to get a better look at the finale, grabbing her staff and pushing herself up just a touch more. She brushed a lock of auburn hair from her face, covering her eyes from the sun. As it was midsummer, she had forgone her normal jacket, leaving her in a shirt that covered just enough to be…what was the phrase…‘socially acceptable’. Her arms and shoulders were bare, showing off her deeply tanned and freckled skin, and on her back, an incredibly intricate blue phoenix tattoo.

Then again, if there was any time to dress like this, it would be a festival. Maybe she could convince one of the performing groups to let her join in tomorrow.

There was a backflip, a dramatic pose, and the crowd went wild. Virashtai gave a polite clap and sank back down into a seated position. As the crowd dispersed, she eyed them with a placid curiosity, wondering just who amongst the revelers would want their fortune read next. Her eyes eventually landed on a small okiti girl, looking a bit lost amongst such a large gathering of people and trying to avoid being stepped on.

Virashtai locked eyes with the girl and sent her mind wandering, projecting her voice into the mouse-girl’s own. “You look a little lost there. Why don’t you come sit by me?”

The okiti nearly leaped out of her skin, glancing around the crowd with shaking arms and hands. “Who…who said that?” she nervously asked, the sound mostly drowned out from the general noise around them.

“Look to your left,” Virashtai said through the mindspeak once more, giving a small smile and wave to the girl as she looked her way. 

The girl nervously scurried up to the storefront, her whiskers twitching ever so slightly. “Were…were you talking to me in…in my head?”

“I was,” Virashtai said with a smile, this time using her vocal cords. “You looked like you could use a little guidance right about now.”

“That…that would be nice,” she agreed, folding her hands over each other as she glanced to the set up. “Are…are you a fortune teller?”

“Of sorts.”

“I…can’t exactly pay for…for anything,” the girl stammered.

Virashtai gave a smile. “Don’t worry about payment, I only take donations anyways,” she replied, moving the little money bowl closer to her traveling bag. “So tell me, miss…?”

“R-Ryana…Ryanakiki.”

“Miss Ryana, then, what do you want help with?” Virashtai asked, picking up the cloth bag into her left palm.

The little mouse girl thought for a moment or two, taking a seat in front of the cloth and playing with her whiskers. “Um…what…no…where…where should I go? I…I don’t exactly have any family…or friends…and I don’t know where to go.”

Nodding her head, Virashtai reached into the bag of stones and lightly fished around, feeling the smooth stones across her fingertips. She could feel her eyes begin to glow as she focused intently on the stones, on which one would give an answer to Ryana’s question. They landed on one with a rounded corner, and she smiled, already knowing which one had given its guidance. 

In one fluid motion, she drew the rune from the pouch and held it out for Ryana to see: two lines with an x connecting them. “This is Dagaz, the symbol for day,” Virashtai explained, placing the pouch down and tossing the stone up and down a couple of times. “It is a rune of clarity, of night turning to day and day turning to night, of new opportunity.”

“That’s…that’s pretty cool,” Ryana said, following the stone with her eyes. “But…what does it mean?”

Virashtai caught it and held it up to the sun, thinking for a moment or two. “My advise to you, little one? Go wherever you think will bring you new opportunities and joy. Find a path that speaks to you and start down it. Be mindful of where it might lead, but do not be afraid to try something new. It may bring you something you never could have expected.”

Ryana tilted her head ever so slightly, but it gave way to a slow nod. “I…think I understand, Miss Virashtai,” she replied, a small smile crossing her face. “Th-thank you for the fortune.”

“Thank you for letting me read it,” she replied, her own face lighting up with a warm smile.


	20. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spireisadragon: If that fic event is open still... maybe something where Witch gets a good dream for once? or switch the character to Anabel, whichever is convienent 
> 
> Witch's dream will appear in a different work

**Anabel’s Dream ******

Short, squat buildings rose out of the desert sands, constructed of precisely carved stone and shading nearly every walkway below them. The market stalls were bustling with men, women, and everything in between, all dressed in brightly colored robes and tightly bound head scarves. Children darted underfoot as the library steps came into view, the structure seemingly reaching into the heavens with its never-ending spires and towers. 

“Professor! Professor Alexendra!” someone called. Anabel turned to the sound, adjusting the large goggles on over her eyes and the satchel over her shoulder. The face of one of her calligraphy students came into view, and a warm smile split across Anabel’s face. 

“The bee is particularly busy today, it seems,” she replied with a chuckle, placing one foot, then the next onto the stone steps, her feet finding the worn divots from thousands of passersby. 

Then…a momentary pause. 

“This is just a dream, isn’t it?” she asked her student, taking off her goggles to find the world still crystal clear. 

The student nodded her head. “A memory, if you want the specifics.” 

Anabel nodded her head sadly, slipping the goggles back over her eyes and letting the slight green tint return to the world. “Well, no reason for me to break out of it now.” 

And she continued up the steps. 


	21. Children in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: Cuz I can't get enough of your writing, another Ryana meets story with your dnd characters x3
> 
> Featuring Ryana (Kikyo's character) and Lix, my tiefling barbarian (as a child)

The heavens opened up, and it began to pour.

Heaving a large sigh, Lix took her mud-stained cloak and held it over her head, watching as brown rivers began to run off the once fine silk. Once the water began to run clear, she set the cloak off to the side and let the rain fall onto her dusky pink skin and jet black hair. Dirt flowed off her body in thick, rather disgusting streams, pooling on the ground near her tattered shoes. With the heavy rain, she was clean in only a matter of minutes.

Soaked to the bone, maybe, but clean.

Picking up her waterlogged cloak and draping it over her head, Lix quickly made her way down the city streets, weaving between the legs of the much larger adults. Though she tried to remain inconspicuous, her bright red tail and horns occasionally made people do a double take. Not waiting to hear their reactions, she simply ran faster, trying to get to the other side of town as fast as she could. She knew what they’d call her, anyways.

Devil child. 

Like she needed to be reminded that everyone thought she was cursed.

The closely packed houses and storefronts slowly gave way to well kept mansions and manors, locked behind great iron gates and thick stone walls. Lix’s frantic pace slowed to a walk, her feet dragging in the puddles. No one had said that running away from home would be easy. Two weeks of snatching bread, jumping in the bag of farmer’s wagons, and sleeping on the ground was…not exactly fun. But it was better than staying at home.

Anything was better than staying at home.

Besides, if that nice farmer was right and there was a friendly noble who looked after ‘tiefling’ children, she wouldn’t have to run for much longer.

Her stomach interrupted her train of thought, the rumbling loud enough to drown out the constant drone of raindrops. Lix glanced around, eyes scanning for a dry spot to eat the last of her snatched bread. They landed on a small alleyway tucked off to the side, trees from over one of the walls providing just enough cover. With quick feet, she pressed her back up against the wall and began nibbling on her small loaf.

A rustling came from further down the alley. Lix paused mid bite, tearing the loaf away from her mouth and holding it tight in her hand. Narrowing her eyes, she reached to her belt and rested her other hand on a slim dagger. “Who’s there?” she shouted, trying to make her voice sound angry. 

It sounded a bit more like childish demanding than anything else.

Which was fair. 

She _was_ only nine.

The rustling came to a slow stop. In the dim light, Lix could see the shape of a mouse-girl turning towards her, dressed in patchwork clothes that looked haphazardly sewn together. Her eyes were twinged with fear, though it seemed to be slowly turning to relief. “Um…hello there. I’m…I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she stammered, rubbing her paws together.

Lix blinked a couple of times in confusion, never having seen a mouse-person before, but slowly took her hand away from her dagger. “Oh, you’re fine,” she said, looking at her half eaten loaf of bread. “I think I might be the one disturbing you. What are you doing?”

“Um…well, I am…looking for food,” the mouse-girl replied, motioning to the crates of what was now clearly garbage. “This is where the rich people live, and they…they sometime have…food that is better than what you can find in the markets.” 

Lix tilted her head to the side, feeling the cloak slip off of her horns. As fast as lightning, she yanked her hood back over her head. “Did you find anything?”

The mouse-girl slowly shook her head, her whiskers twitching ever so slightly. “Not…not today.” Her eyes flickered ever so slightly, and it was her turn to tilt her head. “Are…are you a tiefling, miss?”

Her muscles tensed at the word, fingers wrapping around the loaf of bread and breaking the crust. “So what if I am?” she snapped, feeling the malice lining her words. 

The mouse-girl recoiled ever so slightly, her tail wrapping around one leg as a tremor ran through her entire body. “I…I am sorry for asking.”

Lix’s eyes fell to one side, her fingers unclenching as the guilt washed over her. Wordlessly, she pulled the hood off of her head, exposing her bright red devil horns and red-black eyes. “I’m sorry for snapping, that was rude of me,” she said in a low voice, feeling her shoulders slump ever so slightly. 

There was a slight swishing sound of moving cloth, then a thump of someone sitting down, then a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “It is okay, miss,” the mouse-girl said, leaning ever so slightly against her arm. “It is…not exactly easy to be different in this world. I…I would know better than most.”

The endless sound of rain drops filled the silence.

“Why couldn’t I be normal?” Lix whispered, feeling a new wetness run down her cheeks as something within her snapped. Large, ugly sobs wracked her body, her whole body trembling with anguish and pain, so much pain. She buried her face into her already soaked dress, emotions spilling out of her tiny body and out into the world.

And even so, the little mouse-girl did not let go.

“I…I do not know if I have an answer,” she said, wiping some of the tears away with her paw. “But…I do know that…whatever did bring you here, it cannot hurt you anymore.” Ever so carefully, she drew Lix into a hug, resting her fuzzy furred head onto Lix’s cheek.

Lix sniffed, burying her head into the soft fur. “T-thank you,” she muttered, swallowing down some of her tears. “What…what’s your name?”

“Ryana. Ryanakiki.”

“That’s a nice name.”

“What is yours?”

A pause. “Lix. Just Lix. I think my dad disowned me, so I’m not sure if I have a last name anymore.”

“Oh, um…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, he was a jerk.” 

The two of them sat there for some time, Lix’s face buried into Ryana’s fur as her sobs slowly faded. Outside the alley, the constant fall of raindrops finally stopped, the dark clouds overhead finally blowing past. 

With a sigh, Lix broke off the hug and looked out into the row of mansions. “I should probably get going,” she said, fiddling with her cloak. “I’m trying to find that…tiefling orphanage that’s supposed to be here.”

“That is actually why I asked if you were a tiefling,” Ryana said, poking her head out and pointing down the road. “It is just up the street, pass this row of houses. The mansion has a red roof.”

“Oh, thank you,” Lix said, standing up and looking down the path. She took one step out of the alley way, pausing before she went any further. In one fluid motion, she took off her cloak and handed it to Ryana, along with the half-eaten loaf of bread. “Here, I want you to have these. I know the cloak is wet now, but it’ll dry out pretty fast.”

Ryana’s whiskers twitched ever so slightly, her eyes widening. “Are…are you sure, Lix?”

“I’m sure,” she replied with a firm nod. “I won’t be needing them, and you look hungry.”

“If…if you insist,” Ryana slowly said, taking the cloak and bread with a puzzled look in her eyes. 

“I do.”

A slight smile crossed the mouse-girl’s face. “I…I hope you find something better there.

Lix returned with a grin of her own. “I hope so too. And…I hope I get to see you again, Ryana.”

“I…I hope so too.”


	22. A Wondrous Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> churrobird: a prompt: any character you choose reacting to a junimo from stardew valley! (i told you i wasnt playing ya. this IS pure)

Grabbing her satchel from below the counter, Anabel swung her bag across her shoulder and turned off the lights. One by one, the overhead lamps dimmed until the library floor was bathed in calm twilight. Smiling gently, she pushed the doors open and walked out into the sunset bathing the sky in orange and red. She locked the door behind her and set down the sidewalk, lightly kicking at the stones near her feet.

It had been a quiet day of bright eyed children with stacks of books almost as tall as them, stressed high schoolers huddled at the back desks, and middle aged women looking for terrible romance. She never minded perfectly average days; it was certainly a rather nice to have downtime for once in her life where all she had to worry about was getting through her work. That being said, long strings of them were…a bit dull, all things considered.

“Beep beep!”

Reacting just fast enough to reach out her arms, Anabel watched as a small creature leaped out from one of the bushes and into her arms. It was shaped a bit like an oblong apple, green like the new shoots of spring. Stubby arms and legs stuck out from its sides, complimenting large eyes looking up at her and a small, round mouth.

Anabel slowly turned the creature sideways, raising one eyebrow as she looked the creature over. Hundreds if not thousands of images floated past her vision, snowing snippets of beings from every world she had visited, yet nothing she had ever read or seen matched this little one in her arms. “Thousands of years and yet the universe still contains wonders unknown,” she mused, a small smile coming to her face. “Now, what might you be?”

The creature wiggled its hands happily. “Beep beep!” 

From the tone in its voice, Anabel could clearly hear that it likely understood her question, though it responded in a language that she certainly had never heard before. 

Chuckling a little, she brought the creature closer to her face and touched her nose ever so lightly to its forehead. It made a gurgling noise that was clearly a laugh. “The honey creeper and honey badger do not need to share a language to communicate,” she said with a laugh. “Let us try a different approach. Can you understand me?”

The creature nodded yes.

“Did you want to say hello?”

A nod yes.

“Is there anything else you want?”

A slow nod.

“Is it information?”

Their body shook from side to side.

“Is it an item?”

A nod.

“Food perhaps?”

A vigorous nod.

Anabel lightly chuckled, carefully setting the creature down on a low bench and opening up her satchel. Whatever this little one was, there was little harm they could do to her. Besides, if she was correct and this was a nature spirit, perhaps helping them could bring something good to the day. “Then why don’t you ride in here?” she asked. “I have something to eat back in my apartment.”

The little creature beeped and leapt into the bag, settling amongst her books and pens with a content little purr.

Light on her feet, Anabel weaved through the darkening streets and finally reached a low building filled with apartment units. One flight of stairs, one key turn, and she stood in the little place she called home. A reasonably well stocked kitchen looked over her living area, a low couch and dining table facing a television. A couple of paintings decorated the walls, framing a well stocked bookcase and a number of house plants. 

Kicking off her shoes, she set her bag onto the kitchen counter. With a large hop, the little creature bounded out of the satchel and into the nearest plant it count find. Chuckling a little, Anabel grabbed a bowl out of a cupboard and opened up her fridge. Rifling through the various drawers, she pulled out a small container of mixed berries and a couple of cherry tomatoes. She neatly arranged them into flower before walking over to her spider plant and placing it near the base.

“Here you are,” she said with a smile, standing back up and looking through her belongings. Her eyes landed on her journal, now possessing a small leaf as a bookmark. One eyebrow raised, she flipped to the marked page. It was marked with dozens of glyphs and symbols she couldn’t recognize right off the bat, but given their structure, it would not be impossible to decipher with a little time. 

What a strange little creature.

Snapping the book closed, Anabel returned to the plant to a curious sight. The food was nowhere to be seen, presumably devoured in the minutes she had been reading the journal. Instead, the bowl held a fountain pen, elegant designs carved into black wood and bound with gold. She knelt down and picked it up, feeling the patterns under her fingertips. 

A gift for a gift, it seemed.

Glancing into the spider plant, she could just make out the little creature hiding amongst the sprawling leaves. She smiled faintly and knelt back down, balancing the pen between her fingers. “A rewarded host makes for a long time friend. Thank you for this, little one.”

The creature bounced up and down, happily waving its arms. “You’re very welcome, nice lady,” it replied, the noises finally forming words in her brain. “Junimos return kindness with kindness, after all.”

Tilting her head to the side, Anabel gently sat crosslegged in front of the house plant. She opened the journal to the page with the strange writing. “Then may I ask something else of you?”

“Sure thing.”

“Might I ask for a bit more on your kind?”

The Junimo’s eyes closed, waving their arms up and down with a childlike enthusiasm. “Do you have more food?”

Anabel smiled ever so slightly as she once again stood up, heading back to her fridge and pulling out a small loaf of bread and jam.

Perhaps there still was some wonder left in this world after all.


	23. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> collector-of-myst: I'm not asking, I'm *demanding* one of these two - you've driven me to log back into my tumblr, and I *never* do that. 1] Flint and Lilli in a random coffee shop that's comically sized either too big for her or too small for him. 2] Ryana tries to hide in a cupboard/closet, only to find it already occupied by LightDomain!Cayden and Pepper.
> 
> Featuring Flint, a half-orc fighter (Myst's character)

Port Nyenzaru’s market district was considered packed on a slow day, civilians flooding the streets and buying their daily groceries from merchants packed in closer than shipping crates. Normally, Lilli enjoyed the busy atmosphere, filled to the brim with all manner of things she had never seen before. There was always something new to try, something new to see, someone new to swap a couple stories over a mug of tej. Today, however, was especially bad even by Chultan standards, the veritable sea of people making it neigh impossible for someone as short as her to not get trampled underfoot.

Maybe it was a good idea Flint had absolutely refused to put her down.

“Are you absolutely sure we need to get supplies now?” Flint asked, folding large gray arms over each other. The half-orc stood over the majority of the crowd, dark brown hair swept back to reveal dull orange eyes. Unlike the majority of half-orcs, he did not have any tusks, but ever so slightly pointed ears. “Because I can barely move.”

Lilli poked her head over his shoulder, adjusting the almost comically large goggles on her face. “I guess it is a bit crowded now, and trying to transport anything through the streets isn’t going to be super feasible,” Lilli said, playing with a strand of her salmon pink hair as she scanned the row of ramshackle buildings. Her purple eyes landed on a small hut with a mug sign over top. “Ooh, over there, why don’t we get something to drink and wait out the crowds?”

“Anything to get out of this heat,” Flint said under his breath, parting the crowd with his height and build. After a few minutes of struggling, he ducked into the building, breathing a sigh of relief at the shade. Wordlessly, he picked Lilli off his back and set her onto the wooden floor of the shop.

That may have been a mistake, given that she had to crane her neck to even see the countertops. 

“Ah, hello there,” a woman said, though Lilli could only reliably see her intricately braided hair and colorful headwrap. “What can I do for you?” 

“What do you have on hand?” Lilli piped up, standing as tall as she could on her toes. Without saying a word, she felt Flint’s hand on the back of her collar and she was once again lifted onto his back. “Ah, that’s much better.”

“Well, my little gnome friend, I happen to have a fine selection of coffee available for sale,” the woman said, gesturing to rows upon rows of jars behind her. “We have everything from Dragon’s Breath to Djinni’s Roast, and a couple things perhaps a bit more local.”

“I don’t think I’ve had Chultan coffee before,” Lilli said, giving her chin a small tap. “What would you recommend?”

“Personally, I think the Golden Salamander is an excellent choice,” the woman said, spinning around and sending her colorful garments flying. She tapped a number of the jars, stopping on an earthen pot with golden and red designs. “A mild roast coffee, brewed hot, and mixed with a splash of tej for an extra kick.”

Lilli glanced to Flint. “Ooh, I like the sound of that,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll take a cup of that.”

“Make that two,’ Flint added, giving a slight nod. 

“That’ll be two silver a piece, if you would,” the woman said, scooping out some of the coffee grounds with a small cup. 

Before Lilli could dig into her coin pouch, Flint dropped four silver into the little collection pot and walked them over to one of the tables. 

“I can pay for my own, you know,” she said, looking at the table that was clearly not made for a gnome of her size. 

“Consider it my treat,” he replied, taking his traveling sack and setting it on the chair. He plopped her down onto the makeshift booster seat before sitting in his own chair. 

“Only if I get to buy drinks tonight,” Lilli said with a large grin, kicking her dangling legs as if a child.

He gave her a small smile in return. “Deal.”


	24. The Chasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: Meg! KESHIL AND ANABEL FIRST MEETING! THE STORY!
> 
> Featuring a whole hell of a lot of content from Draco

Soft boots pounded on solid earth, snapping dry twigs and kicking up a cloud of swirling brown dust. The small shrubs near her feet scraped at her legs, tearing through worn cloth like warm butter and scratching at her exposed legs. Anabel muffled coughs and hisses of pain into her headscarf, winding the cloth over her mouth and nose as her senses went blind with pain. Even so, she stumbled along, breaking through the line of trees and pushing past a sea of dry foliage. 

Well, this escape was going about well as expected, which was simply a code word for absolutely gods awful.

Incoherent shouts sounded in the distance, followed shortly by the sounding of a great horn and distant howls. Anabel cursed under her breath, reaching into her pouch and scattering chili powder in her wake. Her pursuers were closing in and had the sense to bring the hunting dogs. At best, she had a couple of minutes before they caught up with her and beat her onto her knees.

Thankfully, time was of little consequence to her now.

She inhaled slowly, feeling the dry air slip down her throat and into her lungs. The world stilled, and for the first time in decades, the energy flowing through her veins came to life. With the same slowness and care, she exhaled, breath rushing back out into the world and wreathing her body in silver and gray. Sounds distorted and warped, dust suspended in midair, howls caught in the tree leaves before they could echo past. 

Eventide on Samhain was just a handful of heartbeats away, a time where the veil between worlds was thin, and anyone with a twinge of power could head anywhere they wished. All she cared was getting to a place where she could slip between the veil and go quite literally anywhere but here.

A satisfied smile on her face, Anabel pulled her headscarf tighter around her hair and plunged deeper into the forest, eyes scanning the world through the mists. Dry terrain turned vibrant green as shrubs gave way to towering trees, cloaking her further in mottled shadow and light. Before long, her tired feet sprang over moss covered rocks, leading her to a collection of tall standing stones. 

With the last strength in her slowly deteriorating limbs, she leapt into the center and blasted the magic away.

Time began ticking away.

The sun hit the horizon just as her the ball of her foot hit the ground, lighting up the ring of stones first in a brilliant gold. For a moment, the world froze all together, and she stood suspended on her toes. As if pushed along by great waves, the forest began swirling around her along grains of sand, each one turning from silver to gold and back again. Through the haze, two burning eyes of molten gold looked down on her, powerful and yet strangely sympathetic in turn. As soon as they appeared, they vanished, silver and gold turning black and purple. 

Her heel hit shining cobblestone. 

She stood in the center of a great plaza, looking up on spires of luminous purple crystal stretching into the skies unburdened by gravity. Every building in sight was twisted into elegant shapes, no two cut in the exact same manner or even by the same hand. Light sparkled off cerulean ponds, dancing across the surface and making them softly glow. Over head, ribbons of colored light streaked the sky as if she stood in a constant aurora.

For a moment, she simply stood in stunned silence of it all, drinking her new surroundings in with the hunger of a woman starved. 

That moment was especially short lived, seeing as a dragon landed not inches from her face. They, for Anabel knew that dragons had little concept of ‘gender’ to begin with, loomed over her, dwarfing many of the buildings in the distance. Their scales were such a deep blue that they may as well have been black, great spines growing from their legs and back. Wings of purple wreathed in darkness stretched from their back, matching the deep purple flames emanating from their eyes. 

In other words, they were pissed.

“Who are you. And how did you get here?” they said, their words booming out with enough force to knock her back a step. It wad harsh, just barely concealing a deep boiling rage.

Anabel slowly knelt, keeping her gaze locked onto the much larger dragon as hundreds of lifetimes worth of images flashed before her eyes. Likely not the smartest decision she had made in recent memory, but today had been a series of less than ideal choices. What was one more? “I am the sands coming in with the tide, I am the decisions of yesteryear, I am that which can never be altered. I came here with the flow of the river, hoping it would take me to calmer waters.”

“SPEAK PLAINLY.”

Anabel bowed her head. “I am Lady Alexendra, Guardian of Time, Memory, and the Past, though most call me Anabel these days,” she said, her voice low and mixed with what little power she could muster. “I was fleeing those who had kept me captive, hoping a portal would take me somewhere kinder than bondage. I swear I had no intention to come to your domain, Ser…?”

“Sir,” the dragon corrected, some of the harshness leaving their voice. He folded his wings close to his body, lowering his head until he was level with her kneeling form. “You are…quick to give your name, Lady Anabel.”

“Those who can use it against me are few and far between,” she replied, raising her head up ever so slightly. “And lying to a true dragon brings calamity.”

“You are wise for a godling,” the dragon said, his form warping and shifting under a haze of deep purple. When it finally dissipated, a tall man stood there, lithe and impeccably dressed. Curly black hair framed a heavily freckled face, eyes now black and tinged with purple. He extended a hand to her, not exactly friendly but certainly not hostile. “For now, you may call me The Wyrm if you so wish.”

She gratefully took it, feeling her legs buckling with the strain. “My thanks to you,” she said through ever so slightly gritted teeth.

His eyes flashed to her torn up legs, the smallest twinge of pity crossing his otherwise neutral face. “Seeing as you have made it to my realm, I suppose I am honor bound to offer you refuge,” he said, effortlessly supporting more of her body weight in his arms. “However, it seems you currently need an infirmary more than lodgings.”

“A guest…does not refuse a host’s hospitality,” she responded with a weak half smile. 

Without hesitation, the Wyrm lead Anabel to a bench and sat her down. “I will have a guard bring a carriage and escort you to the hospital then,” he said, giving a few short claps. He furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly. “Once you have recovered, though, I would like to meet with you at the palace. Your presence here is…troubling.”

“It would be my honor and pleasure, Wrym” she replied, giving her head a slight bow.

He gave a small nod in return, his face flashing with a slight hesitation. “Fair is fair, you gave your name, I should give mine,” he said with a sigh. He gave her a very slight bow. “My name is Dolkel. Or, to be more accurate, Keshil. The Dragon of Destruction. I welcome you to the Chasm.”

Anabel smiled in return, bowing her own head. 

Perhaps it was optimism talking, but she had a distinct feeling this place was going to be better than the last.


	25. A Shitpost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: Or you could do the followers and dmp players as a pets au. :3

“Bark. Bar bark bark bark.”

“Woof!”

“Meow!”

“Riiiiiiiiibbbbbbit.”

_“Roar!”_

“Cheep cheep cheep!”

“BAGWACK!”


	26. Void College AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: If youre still doing writing things, may i suggest the void college au. Maybe with other appearances from outsiders to the void.
> 
> Alright, so, in proper college AU fashion, no one’s going by their actual names because that would be too easy. Here’s a handy dandy list for you all:
> 
> Murder God: Chancellor Eris Scriven
> 
> Old Priestess: Damiana Barros, English and Mythology Graduate Student
> 
> Lieutenant: Oliver Lund, Psychology Graduate Student (transfered from ???)
> 
> Witch: Margaret Dupont, Senior Chemistry Major, Minor in Mathematics
> 
> Bookkeeper: Inaya Zaman, Senior History Major
> 
> Advisor: Claus Gorman, Junior Anthropology Major
> 
> Huntress: Alexis Marinos, Junior Kinesthesiology Major, Minor in Environmental Science
> 
> Part Timer: James Hartwell, Sophomore in Pre-Med 
> 
> Young Priest: Marcus Bennet, Freshman Arts and Business Double Major 
> 
> Anabel: Anabel Novak, History and Linguistics Graduate Student
> 
> Star, Dragon of Creativity (belonging to StarPrincessHLC): Murine Drake, Senior Creative Writing and Theater Double Major
> 
> Keshil, Dragon of Destruction (belonging to Draco): Ardal Drake, Junior Architecture, Mythology, and Archeology Triple Major, Minor in Management
> 
> Rea, Dragon of Restoration (belonging to Draco): Eithne Drake, Junior Agriculture and Biology Double Major

“Alright everyone, make sure to read the next four chapters of your textbook and prepare questions on the various gods and goddess of the people of Gual,” Damiana said, closing her book and beginning to wipe down the blackboard with the large felt eraser just as the clock struck one. 

Like clockwork, students began packing their bags and bolting for the door, most hurrying off to other classes or to second jobs. Marcus, on the other hand, remained in his seat in the third row, aimlessly flipping a pencil between his fingers and pulling out a sketchbook to pass the time. Getting accepted into Blackhollow’s School of Arts and Sciences had not exactly been in the plan when he had sent out applications, but free tuition and board was too good of a deal to pass up. 

Of course…Chancellor Eris’ stipulation that he serve on the school’s student governing board was…well, it felt a little bit like selling his soul. But in his opinion, it was infinitely better than shelling out thousands of dollars to a loan shark. 

“Enjoying the class, dear?” Damiana asked in the slowly emptying classroom, flashing a smile and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes under wire frame glasses. She was the instructor for Mythology 10, a teaching assistant by definition but the true mastermind behind the course. It was also a requirement for first years in the ‘Black Stars Governing Program’.

“Oh, um…yeah, it’s…really…interesting?” he replied, unsure exactly how to respond. He shifted ever so slightly in his seat. “Are we having a meeting today or…?”

“Just a small one,” she said with a light chuckle, taking her books and papers and stashing them into her knapsack. “We’re just going over some new changes to the college’s recruitment policy.”

“I…see,” he replied, setting down his sketchbook and picking up his water bottle. “I’ll be right back, I just need to get a drink.”

She gave a light smile and a roll of her eyes. “Take your time, dear. It’s not like anyone’s going to actually be on time.” 

Giving a small nod, Marcus slipped out of the classroom, weaving his way between the masses of students lining the hallways. The majority of classes were crammed into three small buildings that had outgrown capacity almost four years ago. As a result, trying to get anywhere fast was a contest of who could shove more bodies the fastest. 

“Hey Marcus!” a voice shouted from across the hall, followed by a frantic waving arm. Though he couldn’t see the incredibly short woman, he certainly could recognize Margaret’s enthusiasm. He could see Inaya, breaking up the crowd of people with a combination of height and a stare that screamed ‘murder’. Though in vastly different disciplines, one was never especially far from the other, the two of them bonded in sisterhood from something that had happened in their Freshman year. “See you at the meeting! I brought cookies this time!”

He gave a short wave, unable to really call out before getting swept along with the tide. Eventually breaking free of the swarm of people, he tucked himself into the corner near the water fountain for a moment of respite. Despite the lack of instructional space, the school had splurged for a water bottle tap, albeit one that filled at a snail’s pace. He unscrewed the cap to his water bottle, placed it over the sensor, and began his waiting game.

“Oh so this is the new guy you guys were telling me about!” a female voice exclaimed, jolting Marcus out of his skin as a hand came into his field of vision. It belonged to a woman with light brown hair and deep emerald green eyes, one who was smiling with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “A bit jumpy for a black star though.”

“You might want to introduce yourself, sis” came the heavily exhausted voice of Ardal, curly black hair poking from around the corner. He was one of the few juniors in the Mythology 101 course, using the class as an elective for one of his his half a dozen majors.

“Yeah, I’m not sure the new kid knows you yet,” Eithne added, bright green hair bouncing free of her bun as she popped a piece of bubblegum. She and Ardal were twins, the similarities more-so in their looks than their personality, given they were either side by side or on opposite sides of the classroom depending on the day. 

The other woman blinked, a cheerful smile crossing her face. “Oh my apologies, I just get a little excited sometimes. I’m Murine Drake, the oldest of the bunch,” she said. “Creative Writing and Theater.”

Marcus slowly took the hand and gave it a shake. While he didn’t recognize Murine, he did recognize the Drake family name. They were an old family in Blackhollow, influential both in the political and financial realms on campus. Generally slow to anger, but certainly not people to piss off either. “Marcus…Bennet…Arts and Business,” he slowly replied, grabbing his water bottle just before it began to overflow. “How do you…know…”

“You could say I have the ears of a dragon,” she said with a laugh and a small wink. “I just like keeping tabs on everything and Oliver and I are old friends from…well, that’s a bit of a long story. How is he doing, by the way?”

“I don’t…talk with him a lot.”

Murine gave a quick nod, some slight understanding in her eyes. “Not surprising, he’s a bit on the private side. Could you tell him hi for me then?”

“Why don’t you just say it yourself?” said transfer student said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and tapping her on the shoulder. With a laugh, Murine turned on her heels and gave Oliver a grin that nearly split her face. The two of them rapidly began conversing in a language Marcus didn’t recognize off the top of his head, the other twins jumping in not long after. 

Marcus glanced around, his eyes landing on a woman in short blonde hair gave him a small nod. Anabel Novok, a graduate students and the person teaching his history class. From her body langauge, she had likely been in conversation with Oliver just minutes before.“It’s Gaelic, if you were wondering,” she said, leaning her back against the wall. “The two of them met some time ago in Ireland.”

“That would…explain a couple of things,” he slowly replied, screwing the cap back onto his water bottle. 

“You’re heading to the meeting, I presume?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He never precisely liked her eyes; it always seemed like she knew exactly what was spinning through his head. “Could you tell Inaya to meet me in my office later? I have some books she might find particularly interesting.”

He gave a nod. “I can do that.”Before he could get in a word about the course contents, the group of Gaelic speakers parted ways, the Drakes heading down the hall with a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ and ‘see you laters’. 

Anabel gave a small smile and nod to Oliver, waving them on their way. “I’ll see you later about that paper then?”

Oliver gave a curt nod in return. “Cafe on Charter?”

“As per usual,” she replied, standing upright and giving a small hand gesture. “Take care, you both. And watch carefully where the wind blows.”

Left alone with the black star’s technically-but-not-actual president, the two of them wordlessly headed back down the much less crowded halls now. Nearly everyone gave them a wide berth. While there was technically nothing outwardly imposing about the psychology grad, everyone could agree there was something…off about him. Maybe it was his mannerisms, maybe it was his general confusion about societal norms, maybe it was that ever present feeling that he was always watching.

Even so, they made good time with the lack of obstacles, quickly making it back to Damiana’s classroom. In the time he had been away, everyone else had already arrived. Claus was in deep discussion with Inaya and Margaret, the three of them passionately debating either philosophy or potentially last week’s episode of Game of Thrones. While Marcus knew he was a foreign student, anytime he had asked the rather quirky anthropology major, he had received about seven different answers in return. His best guess at this point was either Germany or Mars. Towards the back, Alexis and James sat side by side, her shoulder resting on his as the two of them discussed some of the local sporting events. They were a bit of an odd pair, given that she was often off hunting on the weekends and he preferred to experiment with robotics, but they seemed relatively happy together.

“Ah there the two of you are,” Damiana said, walking up to Oliver and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Are we all ready to start then?”

“I think we are,” he replied, walking up to the front board and taking a seat in one of the empty chairs. Marcus quickly scuttled back to his seat as Damiana took her place behind her desk.

“Alright then, let this week’s Black Star meeting underway…”


	27. Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> balthazarssass: Now, i have another totally innocent and small suggestion. :3. Anabel meets the lady dragons of Fate.

**“What is it that you seek?”**

The voice echoed throughout the chamber, bouncing through space and time, past and present and future, through the everything and nothing until it threatened to engulf Anabel’s entire being. She dug her fingernails into her palms, the sharp pain just enough to keep her grounded in reality. With a slow exhale, she lifted her head and forced her eyelids open. 

Twenty seven eyes stared down on her, the pupils taller than the tallest buildings and trees she had seen in her life. Nine eyes for three heads, each one piercing her body with a gaze that saw and knew all. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of jagged teeth were set in long snouts, complimenting horns and ridges seemingly made of blackened bone. Their scales were covered in lichen and moss, the gray undercoat just barely visible through the thick coating of greenery. 

She could barely keep just that in her field of vision. The rest of this dragon must have stretched for miles if she couldn’t even make our their legs, much less their wings.

This was The First of Dragons. The Dragon of Fate.

Anabel stood tall. Unblinking. Undeterred. A grim face set upon a soul that would not waver. The last time she had stood before a being this powerful, it had she had faced a life worse than death should she lose. A life of infinite bondage, serving a master who would trap her mind within itself. At least then, she had not been alone.

One breath in.

One breath out.

“How can I get home?”


	28. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylethewarrior: final ask a story to come home to

The sunset over crashing waves beckons the traveller along the path once again, to head out into the world and make himself known, to make a difference in the lives of those he has touched, to be someone greater than anyone thought he could be.

The traveller turns away with a smile, knowing he has already done just that, and sets off for home.


	29. Meetup: Draco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draco: Meetup fic pls

The air was crisp and cool, the sound of gentle footfalls on autumn leaves occasionally breaking the silence of the otherwise still path. Trees swayed in the branches above, the last bit of sunlight flickering through red and golden foliage. A handful of moments later, a young woman reached a small fork in the road, marked only with a wooden signpost. Glancing around her surroundings, she leaned up against the post and looked to the sky.

Eventide at a crossroads.

It was only polite to keep tradition, after all.

“You’re late,” Draco said, stepping out from behind a tree, a slight smirk on their face.

“It’s 6:32, exactly at astronomical sunset,” Meg replied with her own smirk. “I checked before I headed out.”

With incredibly casual movements, they reached into their pocket and pulled out their phone, one eyebrow raised. “So you admit that you are late?” they asked, turning the clock to face her.

6:33.

“…alright you win.”

A smile split the faerie’s face. “Come on, I have dinner on the table.”


	30. A Contest of Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: fa kiki meeting anakis for a flirt showdown
> 
> Featuring Fallen Angel Kikyo (one of Kikyo's personas) and Anakis Arcsong, my tiefling bard
> 
> Warning: Slightly steamy

“What are you playing there?” the woman said, voice low and smooth as pearl. She leaned up against a nearby tree, short dark hair complimenting darker eyes hidden behind panes of glass. Large wings sprouted from her back, each feather black as midnight. Her smile was calm and collected, dripping with what could really only be described as temptation. 

“A dancing song, one to get people excited and keep them on their toes,” Anakis replied, returning with a smile of her own as her fingers danced across the strings of her lute.. Though she had been lost in her music, she knew that woman had not come to this clearing on her own two feet. She was either an angel or a demon, and she wasn’t sure which she would prefer.

The woman batted her eyelashes, taking a couple of steps into the clearing. “You play it so beautifully…is there anything else those hands can do?”

“Oh, there’s plenty I can do. A bard does have to be…rather versatile, after all,” Anakis replied with a small smirk, curling her tails around the rock she was sitting on. “Flutes, lutes, lyres, dulcimers…honestly, if you wanted a different instrument, you should’ve just asked. I’m always willing to…accommodate a lady as pretty as yourself.”

“What about…other things?” she asked, closing the distance between them. The woman towered over her, seductive eyes worming their way into her skin. “I’ve heard that bards are skilled in many areas of performance.”

Anakis leaned back onto the rock, the same melody still singing along. Keep her talking. Keep her talking and do not give in. “Well, of course,” she said, lowering her own eyelids down to narrow slits. “I tell stories, I sing, I dance on occasion. Why, would you like to see something else?”

“I would love to see you dance,” the woman said, reaching out and running a hand through a lock of Anakis’s hair. Her touch was light and soft, gentle and inviting, cold…possessive. “If you are as…versatile as you say, you must be just as graceful with your body as with your music.”

“You’re very kind, miss,” Anakis said with a smile, inching her way up the rock. “Such a lovely way with words you have, and clearly an eye with good taste. May I…ask why you would want to see me do such a thing?”

The woman leaned in even closer, her breath hot on Anakis’s skin. “Is it a crime to want to drink in your beauty, to make it mine?” 

Well, that couldn’t be any more explicit than if it was spelled out in big, fancy red writing and plastered on every sign post from here to Upper Destiny. Either this was a succubus looking to drain her life force or some fallen angel searching for a soul to snatch. And while it was very tempting to see what being the bed mate of an extraplanar being was like, she rather liked living and having a soul. 

Tends to make things easier.

“Perhaps not,” Anakis whispered back, gently pulling the woman closer with her tails. “Though, a favor first.”

“Yes?” Her voice was consuming, overwhelming, soothing her nerves and threatening to pull her under.

Anakis smiled with her best ‘come hither’ eyes. “What should I call you?”

The woman cupped her cheek, fingernails lightly digging into her skin. “I suppose you could call me Kiki,” she replied, bringing her lips just a breath away.

“Then, Kiki, let me just say…” she whispered, fingers momentarily pausing in their song. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, SHE-DEVIL.” 

She struck the chord, plucked magic from the very fabric of the universe, and let it sing. 

The soundwave slammed into Kiki, wrenching her from the embrace and pushing her into the sky. With a scowl and the betrayal seared into the lines of her face, she turned her wings over her face and vanished.

Anakis simply smirked and continued on playing.


	31. Meetup: Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yorkshireraven: meet up fic, Meg actually meeting that there strange person who goes by Raven for the first time and generally how you would think that would go

“Remind me where you are?” Meg asked into her earbud microphone, attempting to juggle her various bags in the same direction. Getting all of her luggage through the airport had been about as easy as fighting goblins with a toothpick; navigating the train system was an entirely different beast to deal with. Between that, the lack of sleep, and the terrible decision of actually drinking coffee, she was about ready to flop on the floor and refuse to move.

“Just look for the red sign. Can’t miss it,” Raven replied, the sound of small snickers from another source coming through the other end.

Meg raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny…was that Viola?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Between you asking me to bring a completely empty suitcase and that, I’m worrying about it.”

A low chuckle came through the speakers. “So are you telling me you don’t want the oversized stuffed Wooloo that Viola is currently carrying?”

She turned the corner to a smirking Raven, an obscured Viola, and a sheep plush the size of a five year old.

“…I am going to murder you.”

“Good to see you too,” he replied with a grin.


	32. Meetup: Carl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yorkshireraven: meet fic this time between you and Carl.

A sea of people flooded into the convention center, dressed up in fantastical costumes or t-shirts from obscure youtube groups. No matter which way Meg looked, there was something new to see: artisans selling custom made jewelry and swords, famous actors on small stages, professional cosplayers posing for pictures. It was a world of sound and art, a place made and maintained by people passionate about their fandoms.

It was also a good place to meet friends.

Weaving through the crowds, Meg stood on her toes, desperately seeking out a familiar face. The Camp Streamix shirt and Team Murder bandana only went so far; the fact was, she was tiny as heck and hard to find, even with explicit instructions to meet by the bathrooms. With a sigh, she flattened herself against a wall and took a deep breath.

“CARL? YOU HERE?”

“You know, I was about ready to do that too.”

Without so much as a yelp, Meg spun around and enveloped her friend in a large hug. “Dang, you’re even prettier in person.”

Meg had never seen anyone turn that red that fast.


	33. The Pianist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zephyrus-gryphon: In this anime Death Parade, a small detail is that the main character collects Mannequins of those he believes has had fulfilling lives. He forgets the names or lives of them, but he still keeps them believing there should be proof that they lived. There's this one Pianist. Who we never find anything about, the main character has forgotten her. An idea I have is, wondering what life she lived before she died?

The lights dimmed, bathing the concert hall in gentle shadows until there was only a single white spotlight shining down on the stage. Space filling chatter fell to nothing more than the barest of whispers as eyes turned towards the main attraction of the night. There were no dancers in colorful costumes, no actors ready to belt out emotional lines, just a simple grand piano and a woman in black. She raised her arms, slow enough that it seemed they were breathing deep, and placed her fingers onto the keys.

Light burst from the stage, grabbing audience members by the ear and demanding that they pay attention for just this short burst of time. It flowed, it swayed, it rose and it fell, it pushed them to the edge of their seats and flung them back until they were helpless to do anything except ride out the storm. If there was magic in this world, this was it, and they were getting perhaps their only chance to see it done by a master.

Perhaps it was lifetimes later when the spell broke; perhaps it was only minutes. The hall was left in stunned silence as the woman stood and gave a polite bow. Only then did everyone leap to their feet, applause breaking their stupor and reminding everyone that this was, in fact, not a dream. 

Among the commotion, a young girl remained with her eyes on the stage, drinking in the sight of the woman in black and the instrument at her side. She closed her eyes, desperately searching in her mind for a place to remember the song by so that she would never lose this experience, this memory. Music had found its way into her life, and she could never go back down the path she had started down. 

With wide eyes filled with wonder and resolve, the little girl tore her eyes away from a dream made manifest and tugged on her mother’s skirt. 

“Mom, I want to do that too.”

Her mother blinked a number of time, face softening with each one as she realized the determination in her daughter’s words. 

“It’s going to be a lot of work, you know. It’s going to take a long time. It’s going to be hard.”

The little girl simply nodded.

“That’s okay. I can do it.”

* * *

“Beside the bone fractures and the torn muscle tissue, not to mention you have a severe concussion and I still have no idea how you managed to survive a broken neck, there’s probably going to be quite a bit of nerve damage in your hands.”

The words jumbled together after that, meaningless strings of phrases that meant nothing and would mean nothing. Unable to so much as move her head, her eyes flickered without purpose between the harsh white walls and the harsher hospital lights. All manner of monitors for her breathing and her heart rate and who knows what else beeped in steady patterns, the sound maddening in its ever repeating loop. There were so many wires in and around her body that she was honestly surprised the doctors hadn’t replaced all of her organs with gears and cogs.

She was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to count her blessings that she was so much as breathing after the car had rolled over five times, the same accident that left her mother paralyzed from the neck down and made her baby brother lose an arm. She was supposed to feel lucky that she would make a nearly full recovery except for some problems with fine motor control.

Piano was all placing fingertips to delicate keys, light touches or hard slams for different styles and genres and time periods, stretching wide for octaves or pinching them tight for smaller intervals, the quick dancing movements of jazz piano or the flowing runs of classical music, all turning precision technique into art. 

Straining her eyes, the girl’s eyes fell on the black hands of a nearby clock. Seven thirty at night. She was supposed to be practicing an accompanist piece for her friend’s senior recital in a month. She was supposed to be hammering away at jazz charts for her band’s performance next week. She was supposed to be memorizing one of Mozart’s piano concertos for her college auditions.

She was supposed to begin learning the song that made her heart sing and fill the world with light and wonder.

The doctor kept rattling off her recovery plan, reading off lists of medicines she needed to take and the exercises she was supposed to do once everything had healed.

The girl said nothing. Shock had dried her tears.

* * *

Her daily walks to class forced her to pass the music school. At the very least, the practice rooms inside had soundproof walls.

Shrugging her backpack higher up onto her shoulders, the young woman put her head down and picked up the pace as fast as her legs would allow. Vines and moss held the old bricks and yellowing windows together, trailing up towards the small bell-tower. A small garden sat under the windowsills, white flowers clinging to the last bit of summer’s warmth. It was a refuge for stressed arts students, lost English majors, and environmentalists needing a quiet place to light up and let their minds wander.

Four weeks, and she hadn’t stepped a single foot closer to the building than necessary.

The accident had forced her to pull all of her college applications, spending an unintentional gap year remembering how to sit up and wiggle her toes, bend over and crawl and take her first steps once again, brush her teeth and brush her hair, get dressed and use a knife and fork again. Each day had been an opportunity to give up hope entirely. Each day, she made the choice to try again. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was simply trying to spite the world.

Whatever it was, the first time she walked around the block alone nearly made her cry. 

It had been enough to send her applications in once again.

Not everything had returned. Shoe laces were hard to get right without a helping hand or a half hour of slow, painstaking work. After one too many balls were thrown in frustration, she switched to slip ons. Her handwriting was barely serviceable as chicken scratch, much less something that could be reliably used to take down notes for later. Thankfully, the professors didn’t mind being recorded that much. As for piano, well, there was nothing wrong with a career in education. Teaching the next generation was a noble pursuit, one that would end up doing good in the world.

Not that she had even tried going back, instead jumping at the chance to offload her piano paraphernalia to a neighbor. She shoved sheet music into every box she could find, tore her room apart until she was sure that not a single practice book remained, even offered her standup piano for far less money than it was worth. Trophies were stripped off the wall. Ribbons found a dark corner of the attic. In less than a week, all signs of the offending instrument were gone.

There would only be disappointment if she tried.

She had resolved to keep moving forward, even if something got left behind.

A window flew open, black shutters banging against the sides of the building and carrying the forlorn striking of a piano’s keys. The song tugged at the corners of her memory, winding around her like a siren’s call as images of a darkened stage came to life.

Eyes fixed to the ground, she plugged her ears and walked away.

* * *

“You know, I wish I had picked up an instrument as a kid.”

The woman looked up from her reading, raising an eyebrow at the other mother waiting in the dance hall. Colorful crayon drawings and messy coloring book pages covered up every inch of wall space, turning every surface that wasn’t a mirror into a haphazard mess of color with patches of white paper strewn between. Little children bounded across the dance floor, feet moving somewhat in time with slow, steady beats of the man at a beat up piano.

She couldn’t help but tap her foot in time.

“Never learned?” the woman asked, eyes searching for her daughter amongst the sea of black leotards and bunned hair.

“Well, I played violin for maybe a year. Parents didn’t push it, and I thought it was dumb and boring, so I didn’t even bother trying” the mother said with a slight laugh, her gaze far off and filled with a longing sorrow. “But that doesn’t count. I don’t remember a thing. Can’t read music, couldn’t tell you what the strings mean or what one piece is from another. Now I’m just kicking myself because man, wouldn’t that be a cool skill to have.”

“You know, it’s never too late to learn.”

The mother laughed. “Says the teacher.”

She returned with a slight smirk, eyes flickering across the hall and trying to land anywhere else but the upright instrument. With each pass over, it was harder to tear her gaze away. “You know, I actually used to be pretty good at that when I was a kid,” she said, pointing a finger across the way. “Got a lot of awards for it, went to a couple of championships. Really could’ve gone somewhere big with it.”

“So why’d you give it up?” 

“Car crash.”

Words died on the mother’s lips, only nodding in simple understanding as the simple beats faded to a close and a cluster of children ran across the room to waiting parents. There was no spell that had been broken, no masterful revelation of the arts for either the adults or the children.

And yet, her foot continued tapping.

Noticing her daughter more engaged with a gaggle of friends, the woman rose from her seat and crossed the floor, each footstep following the rhythm that had been playing all throughout the class. As a solo instrument, a steady beat was the hardest thing for any piano player to learn. There was no one to follow, no one to lead, just the speed the player wanted to take and the instrument.

She could keep time. The hardest step was already done.

With trembling fingers, she placed her hands on the keys, remembering the feel of a familiar chord, one she still remembered despite just wanting to move on and forget. But how could she forget something so utterly real and raw. One breath in, one breath out, and she struck them down.

The piano was horribly out of tune.

But the sound still rang true.

* * *

“Mom, come on, we’ve gotta go.”

“Let me just finish this up,” the woman said, fingers lightly dancing across the piano keys and filling the space with sound. The coffee shop was bathed in sunset’s glow, casting deep shadows on the faces of people buried in their readings and writings. Each table had a small vase of white flowers picked from the garden outside. Paintings from local artisans lined the walls, a motley assortment of picturesque landscapes, blurred street corners, and thought provoking portraits. 

She came every Saturday at two, setting out a small tip jar on the antique piano and playing a number of tunes she had practiced throughout the week. They were never perfect nor polished nor something that would be worth paying money at a fancy venue, but it was good enough for the sleep deprived patrons of a small cafe. The owners were understanding, the people were polite, and she always came away with something by the time night fell.

As it turned out, grading papers for ten years had been almost better physical therapy than what the doctors prescribed. The finesse and grace of her youth was long gone, but she remembered where to place her hands and how to read in-between the black notes splashed across sheet music. Speed and technical ability would come with time. 

Time, patience, and a lot of practice books.

As her fingers danced to a gentle halt, the song faded into the evening until there was nothing left but the grinding of coffee beans and the occasional muffled cough. Some of the regulars looked up, giving polite claps and nods and finally checking the clock only to realize it was far later than anyone had thought to give attention. Others remained absorbed in their work, eyes focused on piles of papers or personal sketchbooks. 

But even their ears twitched.

The woman stood up, gathering the music back into her satchel and pulling the lid back over the keys. With a gentle smile on her face, she shoved a handful of dollar bills and coins into her pockets and wove through the small mess of coffee tables. Her daughter was waiting outside, arms crossed placidly over a leather jacket.

“That sounded good” she said, flashing a smile and stretching out her arms. “Really good. When’s your concert debut?”

She laughed. “Oh please, I’ve got a long way to go before that happens.”

The two started down the road home, a familiar and gentle tune being hummed along by both mother and daughter alike.

Her daughter knew it as a bedtime lullaby.

* * *

Low heels clicked on the wooden floor, piercing the nearly silent hall with every step. The audience was hidden behind a curtain of shadow, the occasional face of an old friend or one of the many students she taught over the years just barely illuminated by the stage lights. They stared at a simple white backdrop, at an old woman in her best dress and hair done up nice, at a grand piano set in the middle of the stage.

With every step, the woman saw a new face in the crowd. Her daughter, now grown and setting off on her own path in life, sitting proudly in the front row with a gaggle of grandchildren. Her old colleagues from the school, gathered together and whispering about the after party and if there would be enough cookies and lemonade for everyone. Her folk band, waiting in the wings for their turn to join her on the stage. Students from nearly every class she had ever taught, each presenting her with a new stack of music at the end of the year. The baristas from the coffee shop, collectively deciding that the cafe could afford to take a day off if their Saturday entertainment couldn’t be there. The women from her church group, each having begged for nearly ten years straight before she gave in and took a place in the Sunday band.

The faces went on for what seemed like miles.

Every seat had an expectant face. Watching.

Waiting for something to happen.

She took a seat at the piano, hands gracefully running over black wood almost shining under the lights. Her music was already in place: classical, jazz, folk tunes, renditions of popular songs, a couple of pieces she had crafted over the years.

And before them all, a piece she needed no paper for.

She raised her arms with grace and beauty.

Magic sprung forth.

* * *

The lights were white. Her dress was black. 

A woman sat at the piano, playing a song that she knew must be played in remembrance of the woman currently resting in the casket. The line of mourners moved with the slowness only the dead can command, winding its way through the pews and far out the door. Besides the ever present swaying and building music, there were only the sounds of choked tears and low confessions.

And still, the woman played on.

“What’s that song?” a boy asked, respectfully taking a seat on the bench. He was one of the grandchildren, old enough to remember the tune from the house but never old enough to learn its name.

“Moonlit Night,” the woman replied, never taking her eyes off the keys. “It’s a song of sorrow, of ages gone by that only exist in memory and will eventually fade away. Your grandmother loved it dearly.”

He nodded slowly, the light in his eyes wise beyond his years. His gaze flickered to the line of mourners, watching them with a curiosity and an understanding only a child could truly make manifest. “She was…really loved, wasn’t she?”

“Your grandmother touched the lives of a lot of people. She was a teacher, a mother, a grandmother, a good friend, a pillar of the community,” she said, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face. “What was she to you?”

The boy glanced over to the casket, heavily obscured with the bodies of the performers, then back to the grand piano before him. For the first time since the doors had opened and the family service had taken place, he seemed to be lost in thoughts that were no longer just sorrow. Minutes stretched between them, and still the song played on, sending out light and darkness, joy and sorrow, magic and the mundane out into the world

“She was a pianist.”

The woman smiled true.

The song began anew.


	34. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onyx: space and magic gay first kiss?

Opening the bathroom door inch by painstaking inch, Venny tiptoed across the handwoven rugs spread across the hallway, feeling for creaky floorboards before putting her weight down. Moonlight filtered in from the window, giving her just enough light to get to Sol’s room without banging her already sore limbs against a wall or one of the many pieces of artwork lining the walls. She turned the doorknob ever so slightly, peeking her head into what she thought would be utter darkness.

Instead, Sol was sitting up in bed, wearing a set of purple pajamas and reading a book by the light of a small magical lantern.

“Oh, you’re still up,” Venny said in a half laugh half panic, bounding inside and shutting the door just as quietly. Trying to compose herself as much as possible, she dropped her dirty clothes into the hamper and began squeezing the water out of her hair. “Couldn’t sleep or is the book just that good?”

“If I’m going to be perfectly honest, I was waiting for you,” she replied, closing it with a small thud and placing it on the nightstand. “Any longer and I would’ve flown out to the compound to get you back.”

Venny let out a breathy laugh, strategically covering her face with the towel so that her clearly red face wouldn’t seem any brighter in the low light. Play it cool. That talk would be better in the morning anyways. “Yeah, sorry about that, I didn’t think Jui would drill me that hard or that long.” She stretched out her arms, hissing ever so slightly as joints popped and muscles screamed with the strain. “Is…is it normal for a cute girl to beat the shit out of you while you try and learn how to harness ‘the powers of the world around you’ or is that a her thing?”

“Pretty sure that’s a her thing,” Sol said with a slight chuckle, pulling back the covers and patting the bed. “Though I’m wondering what you expected, considering I explicitly told you that she did judo.”

“Not that. Definitely not that.”

She could almost feel Sol roll her eyes. “Need me to work out the knots in your back?”

“Please, everything is throbbing and I feel like I’ve been hit by a sledgehammer and I’m about to pass out,” Venny almost begged, dropping the towel unceremoniously on the floor and planting herself face first into her pillow. Dear sweet merciful mattress, being horizontal never felt this good.

The bed creaked and groaned, blankets and sheets shifting as Sol crawled over to the other side of the bed and gently laid her hands on Venny’s thin t-shirt. She lightly poked and prodded for a moment or two, fingers tracing the curves of shoulder blades and the lines down her spine as she searched for the tense muscles. With achingly slow motions, her hands dug into the muscles right along her neck, kneading away the pain in lazy circles.

Venny stifled a moan, realizing exactly what she had agreed to in her pain filled delirium. She tried to loosen up, just focus on relieving the tension in her everything and everywhere and just relax, but damn was that hard when her hands were so close and _she_ was so close, when her touch was soft and gentle, electric and applying just the right amount of pressure, when all she wanted to do was squirm away or maybe pull in closer.

It was torture. Welcome, but still torture.

“Damn, what in the hell did she put you through?” Sol said under her breath, stopping for a moment to catch her breath and crack her fingers. “There’s no muscle there, that’s just all knots and tension and maybe rocks.”

“Pain, suffering, and lots of getting hit with a stick,” Venny said between gritted teeth, craning her neck around to look at Sol’s face. 

“So what I’m hearing is a special kind of lesbian hell?” the magical girl said with a smirk plastered across her face. She slowly dug her knuckles into Venny’s back, pressing down on a line of twisted muscle tissue.

Venny bit the inside of her cheek, desperately trying to avoid saying something she knew she was going to regret. Sol was just teasing in the same way that she teased her: friendly and deeply embroiled in somewhat crude sapphic jokes. Even so, she could feel her neck growing hot. “Like you’d fare any better getting actually getting beat up by a woman who you’d thank for punching you in the face,” she said, pouting her lips and jabbing an accusing finger in Sol’s face.

“Touché,” Sol said in monotone, though her eyes sparkled with a light mischief. They quickly returned to their usual demeanor as she grunted ever so slightly, running over the knots with a little more force. Her smirk dropped to a frown. “Not sure I can get that any better, not without adding to your impressive collection of bruises.”

“That’s fine, that was actually starting to hurt,” Venny said, finally letting out a sigh. With painstaking motions, she flipped onto her back and looked up at Sol. “Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sol said with a shrug, flopping down next to her and turning on her side.

Not really sure where to land her gaze, Venny settled on Sols’ eyes. One was a vibrant blue, like the sky that she loved to fly and dive in, mingling amongst the clouds. The other was purple, a rich royal color that complimented her regal personality and a creative spirit that always pushed the possible to its very limit.

They were eyes she didn’t mind getting lost in.

Aaaaaaaaand she was well off the deep end.

“You’re thinking about something.” 

Venny blinked a number of times, the words grabbing her wandering thoughts by the collar and dragging them back to the surface. Well, suppose now was a good a time as any. Not like her body felt like keeping secrets. Ever so slowly, Venny nodded, turning over as much as she dared with her recovering muscles. “So, Jui’s been teaching me how to harness chi and whatever since she said that anyone could learn it with enough practice and that since it’s not magic, I can actually learn it, right?”

“Right…” Sol said, raising an eyebrow.

“How much did you…you know, learn?” Venny asked, eyes wandering from Sol’s face and to her own hands. “Cause, like, I know you said that you know how to use it, but you don’t really do it a lot.”

Sol’s eyebrows furrowed a touch. “I know the basic theory and I know how to draw on it to heal small wounds and the like. Why?”

She could feel the sweat building across her body, the feeling of desperately needing to tremble or shake or maybe run into the woods and never come back. But if there was one thing Venny Devesket was not, it was a coward. “Then you know how they say ‘focus on a specific something or someone important to you’ when you’re trying to do it for the first time?” she said, playing with a loose thread on her pants.

“Yes?” Sol said, the gears almost visibly turning on her face.

“Well, I tried doing that before with my mom and my dad, and it just wasn’t working and today, I…well, I thought of you,” Venny said, taking a deep breath in, out. “…and it worked. I did some small manipulation with my hands, I closed up a small sore, I…well, I did it. And you were the key in making it work.”

“That’s…that’s fucking incredible, Venny,” Sol said, her face splitting in a wide smile. “I knew you could do it. Just took something a little different than what you were expecting is all.”

Venny shook her head, letting out a sigh and an empty laugh as she draped an arm over her eyes. “No, Sol, you don’t understand, you’re _important_ to me. I…I really like you. A lot,” she said, almost feeling the weight of the world lift from her chest. Now that it was out in the open, she couldn’t help but devolve into giggles. It just…it sounded so _silly_. “And it’s stupid because I know we went on that date and said that we’d be better as friends, and you’re still my best friend in the world and I know you’re not interested and this is never going to be a thing, but man is my brain just fixated on this dumb crush. But hey, I got the ability to use chi out of it, so I guess it was actually a _useful_ dumb crush for once.”

“…I never said I wasn’t interested.”

Venny’s arm fell from her face, gaze meeting Sol’s. She glanced away for a second, fidgeting with one of the sheets, before letting out a long sigh. “Maybe our initial conclusions were…a bit biased,” Sol slowly said, each word carefully chosen as if she was desperately trying to not get this wrong. “Because I…well, you’re, I…fuck it, I like you too.” 

A moment passed between them, a comforting silence as both of their brains worked overtime to explain what in the hell had just happened.

“So…isn’t this supposed to be the part where we’re supposed to throw ourselves at each other and furiously make out?” Venny asked, tilting her head to the side.

Sol’s face did what could only be described as the visual representation of a deadpan. “You’re more bruise than skin, I walked over thirteen miles picking flowers with Clarissa today, both of us literally already took showers, and it’s fucking boiling.”

Venny winced. “Yeah, no, nevermind…can we still cuddle for a bit?”

Wordlessly, Sol reached out an arm and a leg, drawing Venny closer until the two of them were entangled in the center of the bed. With almost a hesitant care, Sol ran a hand across Venny’s face and neck, brushing hair out of the way and lightly combing it between her fingers as fingertips lightly brushed against skin. She could feel Sol’s breath against her cheek. It was light, airy, warm and comforting and perhaps just the littlest bit scared. 

With one last burst of confidence, Venny closed the last gap between them.

Her lips were welcoming.


	35. Snowy Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon: How Vir and Miriah met

Lightly shoed feet crunched through the freshly fallen snow, wind blowing softly around Virashtai’s legs and tugging playfully at her cloak. With swift yet careful fingers, she adjusted the broach at her neck and pulled up her hood, further muffling her hearing in such a quiet land. She turned once, then twice, eyes searching for something to land on other than endless expanses of white and the little town in the distance. 

They found nothing.

Each footstep rattled in her eardrums, every mile passed with barely a chittering squirrel or chirping bird. After a lifetime of communal living, first surrounded by family and then the ever rotating lineup of performing troupes and traveling carnivals and ragtag adventuring groups, she was utterly and entirely alone. 

Well. ‘Alone’. No kalashtar ever is truly by their lonesome. 

Even so, to not have a single living soul around was…unsettling? Unpleasant? Uncomfortable?

Putting words to feelings was still such a curious concept.

Flat land and well traveled roads made for good time, but even easy travels did not stop bone-chilling temperatures or the early evenings that come with cold weather. Suppressing shivers, the monk pulled her cloak tighter as the sounds of civilization floated past her ears: merchants hawking wares from windows, a handful of children playing in snowbanks, the steady beat of a blacksmith’s hammer. The town was nothing particularly out of place for the region, small enough to walk across in no time at all but large enough to sport a tavern or two. 

Finding one such establishment dubbed The Red Leopard, Virashtai dusted off her snow-covered clothes and stepped inside. The room was lit with a number of candles and oil lanterns, bathing wooden tables and rickety stools in a soft orange glow. Something was roasting over the fire in the back, lamb or pork from the smell, waiting for people to come in from a long day’s work and get a hot meal. Patrons were scattered between the tables, nursing drinks and chatting in low voices.

“Evening, miss,” came a voice from the other side of the counter. A man in his fifties, tall, broad-shouldered, and a beard to match a deep voice. “What brings you to this sleepy little town?”

“If I’m being truthful, it was the first place to really stop on this road,” Virashtai said with a small smile, pulling down her hood and shaking out curls. 

“Sounds about right,” the man replied with a snort, wiping down a mug with a rag. “You looking for a meal and a room, I’m guessing?”

“Well…yes, though I was actually hoping for a little work too,” she replied, pulling aside her cloak to reveal a beautifully carved zither. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

That got an eyebrow raise. “You a bard or something?”

“No bard, but I am a performer.”

The man slowly nodded, then pointed towards a small stage. Following his hand, Virashtai’s eyes landed on a young man setting up a number of instruments. “Well, we’ve already got one of our own playing tonight, but I don’t think he’d turn down a partner,” he said, cracking a small smile of his own. “Draw a large enough crowd and the first drink is on me.”

“That’s very generous of you, sir.” Bowing slightly, she wandered over to the stage, taking another scan of the patrons. For the most part, they drew from the crowd that wouldn’t still be working so close to dinner, mainly a handful of scholarly types and those too old to be working field or steel. One stood out, though: a woman in her late thirties, dressed in a far more intricate outfit than the people around her, a light purple top revealing detailed turquoise tattoos working their way along her arms. A mug in hand, her gaze hadn’t faltered from Virashtai and the bartender the entire conversation.

Rather used to stares from strangers, it was common knowledge that kalashtar were perceived by others as unusually attractive, Virashtai flashed the woman a friendly smile. That done, she sat down on the small wooden platform, giving her introductions to the musician. As suspected by the barkeep, the young man was more than happy to have another voice join him on stage, and the two of them quickly exchanged words on which songs they knew, which tunes would be best suited, and what other performances the two could pull off with practically no time at all.

It took a song or two for them to synch up their playing, but before long, harmonies started to overlap and jaunty dancing tunes filled the air. People filtered into the tavern at a steady pace, ears following the lively music and eyes landing on the strange woman who had wandered into town with little more than a zither and a walking stick. Some danced along, some listened, and still, the strange woman kept her attention on her.

Well. If she was going to stare, Virashtai would give her something to stare at.

“Zaren? Do you know ‘Night’s Grace’?” Virashtai asked as yet another song came to a close, glancing over to the young musician who could swap between drums and viol with hardly a second thought. 

“I do, why?” he said, tuning one of the strings.

“I happen to…know a dance to it,” she replied, smiling and setting down her zither. “And I was thinking that we needed to liven things up before everyone goes home for the night.”

The young man blinked a couple of times, each one resulting in his smile growing wider and the gears in his head turning. “I like the way you think, Vir. Why not, let’s try it out. Worst thing that happens is that you make a fool of yourself and people pay us out of pity.”

“That’s the idea,” she replied with a wink, standing up as the music started and the beat sank into her body. Her feet tapped, her body swayed, and when she could feel the music in every limb, she took a step and let her movements fly free. Arms twirled, hands curled, hips swayed, legs circled, and feet flew as the movements flowed through her, a combination of deep muscle control and performance fluidity. Chatter died down until all eyes turned to her, watching almost spellbound as she leaped and spun, smiling all the while and occasionally clapping her hands to the beat.

The woman simply watched, eyes shining and gaze almost spellbound. 

A simple flourish and the song ended, the tavern erupting into applause and cheers for another. Breathless, Vir took a bow and said her thanks, flopping back down into her chair and tossing out her little collection bowl. One by one, people passed her by, tossing in little bits of coin here and there, reasonably generous for such a small town. 

The woman waited until the crowd had thinned before approaching, pushing a bit of light brown hair out of her face. “That was quite the show there.”

“Why thank you,” Virashtai said with a small bow. “You certainly seemed invested.”

“It’s not every day someone as interesting as you wanders into town,” she replied, looking at the collection bowl thoughtfully before turning her gaze back. “I find it very hard to believe that you’re not a bard after seeing that.”

She shrugged. “I’ve never really been one for magic.”

“Then what do you do besides put on a show if you’re not a bard, miss…?” the woman said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much to be asking, seeing as I still haven’t gotten your name or why you would care?” Virashtai asked, cocking her head to the side and smiling.

Raising an eyebrow, her face twisted into the slightest of smirks. “Aren’t you a bold one? Well, I’m Miriah, and call it an…insurance in case there’s any strange reports when the sun comes up.”

“You’re part of the town guard, then?”

“I suppose you could say that,” she said, eyes twinkling ever so slightly.

“Fair enough,” Virashtai said, stretching out her arms before bowing again. “Vir, daughter of Kor, martial artist, acrobat, and musician, and currently between performing troupes.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Miriah said with a teasing smile. “And I suppose you don’t have much in the way of coin if you are in between jobs at the moment?”

She picked up her little bowl and poured a now much smaller pile of coins into her belt pouch, earnings already split in half due to the other musician taking his cut to the bar. “That is…a safe assumption to make.”

Smoothing down her skirt, Miriah smiled ever so slightly. “Well, then perhaps I can alleviate one of your current problems. I happen to have plenty of space at my house if you were looking for a place to spend the night without having to pay.”

Well. That certainly explained the staring. 

Not that she was about to complain. 

“That’s very kind of you, Miss Miriah,” Virashtai responded after a small pause, grabbing her staff and jumping off the stage. “Though I would hate to intrude on another’s house.”

“That’s far too formal for my liking, please just call me Miriah.” Her smile softened a touch, though still with a touch of playfulness and the earlier curiosity. “And don’t worry, there’s very little to intrude upon when it’s just me.”

She smiled in return, securing her cloak for another adventure out into the cold. “Then, if you wouldn’t mind leading the way?”

Miriah smiled, pulling a shawl over her own shoulders and opening the tavern door. Cold air rushed past, catching the loose fabric and fluttering it in the sudden burst of wind. Some patron one too many drinks in complained about the temperature change, telling her to either stay in or head out.

Strangely enough, Virashtai didn’t really notice the cold.


	36. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> liasis47: Any emotional scene with Vir and Miriah

Voices in any direction, every direction, no direction, accompanied by little more than swirling images that might have made sense in another time, another life, but were now streaks of color that blended together in chaotic swirling motions. Archways rose and crumbled before her eyes, eyes peered into her mind and soul, claws reached out from the nothing only to fall just short and retreat back into the darkness. Faces of family members and ancestors she never knew, all looking down at her, all saying things she could hear but not comprehend, lips unmoving and yet sound, so much sound, echoing in her mind and tearing and warping and-

_“Vir…Vir!”_

The chaos shattered, falling away from her vision like shards of glass until her eyes landed on Miriah’s own, wide and trembling, hands woven through hair and desperately digging into her scalp. All of the voices she couldn’t understand faded away slower, tugging her this way and that until there was nothing but Miriah’s voice steadily beaming into her mind and the beating of her own heart.

_“Vir…say something. Anything. Please…”_ Her voice, formed of mental will and emotion alone, was shaking, each word strained, almost pleading.

_“M-Miriah…”_ She reached out a hand, gently laying it on Miriah’s cheek, feeling warm skin under her fingertips, little scars from old battles, little lines and ghosts of wrinkles. 

The mystic let out a long, deep breath, tension dropping just a touch from her shoulders as her fingers released Vir’s scalp from its death grip. Her fingers pushed hair out of the way, her touch almost as if she was touching a vase that could shatter on impact. “Oh thank the gods, you’re not completely gon-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Virashtai lunged into an embrace, wrapping arms around Miriah’s body and hugging as tight as her suddenly weak limbs would allow. Skin against soft cloth, head buried into her shoulder as she smelled the light floral soap she used to wash her hair. A sharp inhale, then steady breathing, strong beating heart.

“Don’t let go, please don’t let go,” she whispered, her voice steady but every muscle in her body trembling.

Miriah’s hands slowly reached around and pusher her in closer, hands pressing into her back and slowly rubbing in circles. “It’s okay, I’ve got you…I’ve got you..you’re safe…I promise, you’re safe.”

How long they stayed like that was anyone’s guess, Miriah whispering little words under her breath and Vir holding the other woman as if she would disappear if she let go for too long. Slowly, yet slowly, her breathing slowed, her embrace loosened, and she looked up, parting Miriah’s hair with a hesitating hand.

“You’re…still here…”

“You were wrapped around me as if your life depended on it, I wasn’t about to go anywhere,” Miriah said in a breathless, hollow laugh, smile slightly empty but clearly trying to break the tension. “But yes, I’m here, you’re here, you’re…back in one piece up there, I would assume.”

“Y-Yeah…yeah…” Vir slowly said, one hand going to her head and rubbing it a little. “How…long was I out of it?”

A slight bit of caution flashed across her face. “If you’re referring to the…episode-”

“You can call it mindless gibberish, it’s okay.”

“…about ten minutes before I finally got through to you.”

Virashtai let out a long sigh, burying her face into her hands. A relapse then. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. “Well, at least it’s better than it used to be,” she mumbled. “It used to last for hours.”

“So this has happened before.” It wasn’t a question. Fingers slowly curled onto Vir’s palms, pulling hands away from her face and then gently lifting it up. “And you are rather used to it, then.”

“That’s…one word for it, yes.”

“And it sounds like it was pretty bad in the past,” she continued, gently rubbing her fingers in lazy circles.

“It…wasn’t good, no,” Vir replied, sinking into the touch and letting her muscles relax as much as possible. That much tension would give her cramps otherwise.

A gentle kiss graced her forehead, light and warm on her skin. “Well, then if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly was that?” 

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Vir said with a slight laugh, unsure if she found it funny or if she was trying to deflect the seriousness of the situation. It was quite possible it was both.

“Good news for you, neither of us exactly have a busy day ahead of us,” Miriah replied, tilting her head so they looked eye to eye.

Vir sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and wiggling closer. “In a minute or two, then. I…want to enjoy this.”

There was a slight breathy laugh, but Miriah said nothing more, simply pushing them closer and running a hand up and down Virashtai’s back. Her touch was gentle, warm, comforting. 

Real.


	37. Disturbance in the Grove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylethewarrior: I heard the request a story ask is back up uwu. So if I may Part-Timer meets Brethil?

A crash came from the other side of the grove, startling sparrow family and every other bird in a mile radius into the air. The field mice scampered across soft weeds, hiding behind a nearby stump and burrowing into the slowly forming nest of vines. Another moment passed, another crash, another whipping of branches and shaking of leaves, then another. And another. A minute passed, the crashes beat on their steady rhythm.

Sighing, Brethil stuck her gardening spade near the tomatoes and picked up her staff. The wards had triggered, meaning there was something at the edge of her grove that shouldn’t be there. However, the trees were still active, meaning that whatever it was probably too strong for them to beat and likely too strong to care about a handful of awakened trees. It also hadn’t broken through.

And to think this was supposed to have been a quiet day.

Stepping through the wall of fog that surrounded the grove, Brethil’s eyes landed on the four awakened trees, bark covered in drudic runes and glowing a pale green. They stood in an arc, taking turns bringing down thick branches on something just at the edge of their reach. Between the blows, she could hear a voice, stuttering ever so slightly and likely male. 

“O-of course-course it’s m-magical-l bullshit-t-t,” he said, coming just within Brethil’s line of sight. A corpse like man stood there, or rather, half of the man looked like a corpse. Skin was falling off his bones, exposing muscle tissue on his arm and down to the bone on his leg. The other half looked almost unnaturally normal and human, if a touch pale. He wore a simple outfit, a matching light blue shirt and pants, one side decaying, the other immaculately clean.

He was certainly undead, and an intelligent one at that. 

Best to play it safe. 

With one motion, Brethil planted her staff into the ground, shouting in the same breath a phrase in elvish meant to repel the undead. A streak of light shot from the gnarled top, bright as the noonday sun and aimed directly at the man’s chest. It struck him clean through, withering away his undead half like it was made of paper but leaving the ‘living’ half untouched.

The man yelped a little at the flash of light, inspecting his wound for a second before turning his attention to her her. “First off, rude,” he said, the stutter falling away as the ‘flesh’ began knitting back together. “Second, could you call off your trees? I’d rather not get yet another concussion today, those always take the longest to repair.”

One blink and she muttered another phrase to the guardians, ordering them back to their posts. With long, shambling strides, the trees retreated back into the fog, leaving Brethil facing the undead man alone, arms crossed and still holding the sunbeam in her mind. 

He smiled, genuine enough though lopsided due to the missing flesh on half of his face. “Ah, thank you my dearest…druid I presume?”

“Alga’minuial, Archdruid of the Gilded Grove,” she replied, defaulting to the name the other druids insisted on calling her these days. “Though most people still call me Brethil.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Archdruid,” he said, giving a bow at the waist, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was sincere. “The Part Timer, at your service.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking him over again. The title wasn’t familiar, but anything that used a given title over a name was bound to be powerful, especially when that something happened to be undead and practically immune to a sunbeam. “A pleasure, though I don’t exactly recognize your title.” As she spoke, the magical orb faded away, marking the spell just running dry.

“It’s…b-better if you did-didn’t,” he replied, falling back into the stutter for a moment. “I-I was-was just p-p-passing through and found the s-sudd-dden fog curious. N-not to m-m-mention your loyal guard-dians.”

“Then you are not here to cause trouble?” 

“I-I’m not the one wh-who shot a beam of concentrated sunlight at a complete stranger,” he said, voice smoothing out once again.

One who happened to be intelligent undead, but that was semantics by this point. “I suppose not,” she replied, looking back into her grove. “Well, though it is…rather against the druidic code to associate with undead, would you care for a cup of tea as an apology?”

“You’re too kind.” His one good eye looked over the wall of fog. “I’m not going to get ripped to shreds the second I step in here?”

Brethil smiled a touch. “Only you give me a reason to do so.”

“You’re already a nicer host than my colleagues, I will gladly take that tea,” he said, stepping over the threshold and disappearing into the enchanted grove. 

The archdruid was not far behind.


	38. A Dear Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kikyoyuuki: *slides in* how about another "Ryana meets your DnD kids"?

Padding little paws on the dirt road, Ryana hurried along the winding path, eyes always flickering up towards the setting sun. At this rate, she would never reach a safe place to sleep before the sun set, and while she was used to sleeping out in the open, there was a large difference between a back alley in a city and a hole in the middle of a forest. At least she was used to the former.

The road split off at a fork, and without any real time to make a calculated decision, she took the left path and continued on at her hurried pace. Quickly, far too quickly, the sun dipped behind the trees and plunged the forest into a darkness so thick she couldn’t even see the stars. Fumbling in her pocket, she grasped for her flint and steel to see if she could get a small light going.

A chitter came from her feet. Through the darkness, Ryana could just make out a squirrel’s furry tail. “Oh, um, hello there, you’re…very friendly for a squirrel,” she said, trying to keep her voice down. “I don’t suppose you’d know a safe place to spend the night, would you?” 

The squirrel chittered, bouncing its tail around almost as if it was thinking before scampering off. With essentially no other real options, Ryana took off after the squirrel, doing her best to keep the little creature in eyesight. Before long, floating green lights appeared in the distance among a light mist. Now bathed in pale green, the squirrel scampered through the veil and vanished.

“Wait!” Ryana said, cautiously padding to the edge of the mist. The others always said not to trust strange floating lights in the forest: witches and hags and faeries used them to lure people in and trap them, possibly forever. Still, traveling through a forest at night was bound to be just as dangerous. 

Slowly, she stepped a foot through the mist, feeling soft grass under her feet. She took a few more, passing floating green lights to find a clearing with a large tree in the middle with leaves like sapphires. A beautiful garden surrounded the trunk, growing a number of foods that Ryana could only guess. Towards the back of the glade was a gazebo made of woven vines and blooming flowers. The squirrel was in said gazebo, resting on a little bed of soft weeds and grass.

Carefully weaving around the garden, the little mouse girl stopped to pick a small melon and brought it to the gazebo, cutting a slice or two with her knife and digging in. It was sweet as honey, so ripe the juices ran down her chin, and easily the best thing she had eaten in weeks. She devoured half the melon in one go, placing the other half by the sleeping squirrel before curling up on her own bed of weeds.

She awoke to bright sunlight and the sound of moving earth. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, Ryana looked around for the squirel from last night. Seeing no trace of her furry friend or the other half of the melon, she peeked over the side of the gazebo railing. An elf woman was weeding the garden, tall and with copper skin, black hair braided out of her face and wearing a beautiful blue outfit. Thinking it best to leave before being noticed, she quickly padded towards the edge of the clearing. 

“Did you sleep well?” the elf asked, not looking up from her gardening. 

She stoped in her tracks, sheepishly turning around and hanging her head. “I…um…yes, I did…is this…your garden?”

“It is,” the elf woman said with a nod, pulling a weed out of the ground. 

“Oh, um, I…ate one of your melons last night, I’m…sorry.”

“A melon’s no good hanging on a vine, especially if it’s ripe,” she said with a gentle smile, dusting off her clothes and walking over. “And my garden at least is made for sharing.” 

“Oh, okay then…how did…you know the melon was ripe?” Ryana asked, her ears twitching ever so slightly.

The elf woman smiled, kneeling down to her level. “Well, you left the other half for me.”

“You’re…you were the squirrel?”

She laughed a little, reaching down to the ground and slowly blooming a flower. A swift pluck and she held it out as an offering. “My name is Brethil. I’m, well, a druid.”

“My…my name is Ryana…Ryanakiki,” she replied, hesitantly taking the flower in both front paws. “Um…thank you for letting me stay the night, miss druid…and leading me here…and letting me eat your food…”

“You’re more than welcome,” Brethil said, standing up and looking back to her garden. “Would you care for some food for the road too? I do have some pheasant left over from last night…and anything else you’d want from the garden.”

Her ears perked up, a small smile coming to her face. “I…I would like that, yes.”


	39. Destruction and Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dracodemortem: So instead of bothering you about space lesbians, how bout some more nosae and anabel

“YOU GOT HERE _HOW_?”

Anabel carefully sipped her coffee, not breaking eye contact with the tall, imposing, angry dragon older than time, space, and reality in the body of a man as thin as a pole. “I found an ancient waypoint circle, activated it with what little magics I could at a spiritually significant time, time stopped as everything turned into grains of sand colored gold and silver, two eyes of molten gold peered out from the darkness and turned everything black and purple, and then I appeared in your realm,” she repeated, flatly and more straightforward an explanation than she had given in the past two centuries.

“I GOT THAT,” Keshil roared, taking a moment to straighten his suit and ball his hands into tight fists. “Of course _they_ would send a godling of a shattered world to my domain of all beings in existence, that absolute MOTHER-”

“Passionate blow the winds of a storm long foretold,” Anabel interrupted, hoping to stave off another shout that could rupture her eardrums. “I take you know the perpetrator?”

He snorted, folding his arms and letting out a long and aggravated sigh. “They are…one of my kin, so to speak, one of us who was born past the confines of existence,” he said, sitting down in what could only be described as ‘aggressive’. “They would actually be your equivalent, if on a much grander scale. The dragon who introduced time and sees its ebb and flow to its beginning and its end, Nosae.”

She gave a curt nod, the name itself bringing spiraling images across her vision of a space beyond the world suddenly knowing time. “Then for what reason did they blow me to a realm that none can touch?”

“Presumably you have information I could find valuable,” he muttered, pinching his eyebrows together. “Either now or that by meeting, other events may come to pass that might bear important results.”

“You could also just ask.” A voice echoed through the chamber, walls tumbling away like grains of sand for just a moment as a dragon appeared in the space, scales shining with gold and their eyes burning bright. “Apologies, dearest Anabel, for the diversion in your destination, but you needed attention quicker than even I could hope to explain.”

Though still seated, Anabel gave as deep of a bow as she could. “No harm was intended and no harm was done, but the apology will be accepted.”

“You apologize to the godling but not to _me_ for _breaking through_ the veil?” he asked indignantly, leaping to his feet with eyes burning purple.

“You were not the one pulled through time and space, Keshil,” Nosae replied, the smallest hint of a smile spreading across their snout. “Besides, such intervention brought you a needed source of information and a potential advisor, did it not?”

“YOU COULD’VE ASKED FIRST.”

“And judging from the threads in time, the Lady Anabel would have passed out from blood loss in a quarter of the way through that conversation.”

Keshil inhaled slowly, sinking back into his chair with a glare that could, and likely would, melt steel. “I hate you. _So_ much.”

Anabel bit back a laugh, deciding to take a long draught of coffee.

“But, proper introductions are in order,” the dragon said, kneeling down and leveling their face with Anabel. “I am Nosae, Dragon of Time. A distinct pleasure meeting you.”

She gave another bow, equal parts respectful and familiar. “Though I suspect you already know my path and my past, Lady Alexendra, Guardian of Ayorth,” she replied, the slightest of smiles upon her face. 

“I do indeed, but I appreciate the formalities even so.” There was a great shifting of weight, the room seemingly expanding to accommodate the large dragon comfortably in the room. “But, I am not here simply for formalities.”

“I would certainly hope not,” Keshil muttered, turning to Anabel. “So, what do you know that is so important?”

Ever so slowly, Anabel placed her cup onto the table and folded her hands over each other. “I am unsure exactly what a being such as you would find particularly noteworthy about my story.”

“Only one way to find out,” he replied, leaning over just a touch. “Start from the beginning. In the name of all that is good, who and what are you?”

One deep breath in, one deep breath out.

“My name was Alexendra Vinsol, a dusk salan of Zelo, denizen of the world formerly known as Ayorth…before it fell at the hands of one I will not name.”


	40. Campfire Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> antondeni: Casey comforting Astor after a fit of panic

The fire crackled, flames licking into the night sky and towards the stars above. Everyone was curled up around the fire, packed tight under blankets and bedrolls. Only Casey remained awake at such a late hour, propping their back against a half-dead tree and occasionally lobbing acorns into the coals. Second watch was not particularly well liked amongst the rag-tag group that was protecting ‘Astor’ as he was now going by, but they never minded it much. It was peaceful, quiet, a time where they could think on what they had seen in their sleep.

Creeping shadows amongst golden light, ravens flocking over the mountains, steady drum beats and clashing of steel. The Lord of Dreams was nothing if not mysterious. They knew it was an omen of things to come, likely leaning towards the bad, the painful, the sorrowful in the days to come. Such was the world these days. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to raise spirits once morning came.

Blankets shifted in the darkness. Their ears perked up, following the sound to the now restless form of their lord. Ever so quietly, they set down their sword and crawled over. Astor was trembling, turning back and forth in his sleep with sweat running down his brow. His fists were clenched so tight that even in this low light the knuckles looked white as death. He was muttering in Sindarin, his birth tongue, over and over and over again the same words they remembered from his youth.

Sighing gently, Casey leaned down to his ear and touched his shoulder with a finger. “Wake, my lord, it’s your turn for the watch.”

The young man jolted awake, eyes wide with fear and reflecting the golden light of the fire. Hands shot out, grabbing their shirt in a moment of desperate and fleeting panic. A moment passed, the trembling in his muscles slowly dissipating as the madness left, and it was just the two of them again.

“You know, if I had known you wanted me as a bed partner that badly, you could’ve just said as much,” Casey said, wiggling their eyebrows and leaning in with a smile.

Even in such low light, they could make out the creeping red blush working its way up Astor’s cheeks. He slowly let go of their shirt, siting up and rubbing his temples. “Casey, please let a man wake up before you insult his integrity.”

“Absolutely not, my lord,” they replied, shifting so they now sat to his left. One arm went around his shoulders, pulling him in close to quell the shaking. “I take it that your dreams were restless?”

“When are they not these days?” he muttered, leaning his head on top of theirs and letting out a long and low sigh. “I still do not know how you do it.”

“Manage to win the hearts and minds of men and women and those beside?” they said with a cheeky grin.

They could feel Astor resisting the urge to put his face into his hands. “Deal with seeing omens and prophecies and possibilities in your dreams every single night without respite.”

The fire cracked and crackled, the only sound in the silence that stretched as Casey mulled the question over. “Writing songs about fate, destiny, and the weight of responsibility tends to help.”

“For once in your damned existence can you _please_ be serious when I’m asking you about matters of faith?” Astor said, biting back a laugh as some of the tension in his muscles melted away.

“Never,” they replied, giving his leg a gentle pat and smiling a touch. 

Mission accomplished.


	41. Children From the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon: How about a meetup between the Changeling Children and the kids from Coda and the Astral Compass?
> 
> *flailing arms* 
> 
> Okay so, _funny thing is_ these two stories actually do take place in a shared universe, and the kids do canonically meet once. So with that in mind…

“Come on guys, we don’t have a lot of time here!” Coda shouted, jumping off the transport and taking off down the cobblestone roads as fast as his hovershoes would allow. Alel and Reyo were not far behind, running along with little bags at their hips and Esil clinging to Reyo like a backpack.

“Can you believe the architecture of this place?” Alel said, pulling out her holocamera and setting it to auto-record. “According to what I read, Torael is a world where _magic_ still exists, so they’re able to twist wood, stone, and crystal like it’s steel or hard light…which is how you can get buildings like that!” She pointed a webbed hand at a building that twisted and curved a bit like a specially shaped tree…except it was made out of a shining crystal.

Reyo blinked a couple of times, looking it over with his artist’s eye and nodding in approval. “I’d think it’d bit like shaping glass…or maybe they carved it out of a big chunk?” he said, twisting his head this way and that. “Though that’d be really heavy…yeah, no, let’s just go with magic.”

“Alel, are there really witches here?” Esil piped up, climbing over Reyo’s shoulders a touch. “You said there’s magic, and witches use magic.”

“I’m pretty calling someone a witch is rude,” Coda said, pulling out his map and looking at what path to take. The Astral Compass was only docking for a few days to refuel and pick up supplies, and Torael was a big world to explore. Best to save shopping for the last day and get the big, exciting stuff out of the way. “Where do you guys want to head first? Alel said she wanted to hit the Asorbaren Academy for their libraries, Reyo, you wanted to meet the elves and get some of their magic paints, the runic gem ruins are supposed to be some of the best places to find treasure…”

“And I wanna meet some faeries!” Esil said, pointing to a part of the map that showed a small ring of stones. 

“I would recommend against that,” a voice said, low and slow. “Faeries can be cruel and unkind, especially if you don’t know the magical arts.”

All four of their heads turned towards the sound. A girl stood not too far from them, looking them over with one purple eye and one magenta. Her hair was metallic blue-gray, cut into a cute bob that framed a freckled face. She wore a simple purple dress and red scarf, and strapped to her back was a book covered in strange glowing symbols. All together she looked a bit like. Well. A witch without her hat. 

“Oh, okay, thanks for the tip,” Coda said, smile brightening. “I guess you’d know better than us.”

She nodded her head. “This is my home, I would hope to know something about how to keep safe.”

“I’ll just add that to the list…don’t meet faeries…” Alel asked, thumbing through her recording device and typing up a couple of notes. “What’s your name, by the way? Just so I know who to credit.”

“You may call me Arista Maywether, wizard of the Maywether estate,” she said, giving them all a curtsey. “And technically speaking, you have met a faerie.”

There was a chorus of ‘nice to meet you’s and ‘that’s a pretty name’ and ‘no way, you’re a real wizard’s, followed by Esil’s eyes going wide with appropriately childlike curiosity. “We’ve met a faerie? Where?”

“Me, of course,” Arista said, clasping her hands together. “I am a changeling, meaning I am a faerie that was switched at birth for a human child.”

“And now you’ve met two!” 

Another young girl popped out from a nearby alley, bright purple curls bouncing from her hair and bright orange eyes popping out of dark skin. She wore a beautiful blue outfit that shimmered in the sunlight, casting small rainbows onto the ground. “Though I’m really not supposed to let people around here know that. You can call me Tyra, and I’m a real faerie…from the faerie world too.”

Esil seemed almost ready to take off into orbit. Alel, for her part, was taking notes as fast as her fingers could fly.

“Nice to meet you too, Tyra,” Reyo said, flashing her a smile even as a slight blush crept along his cheeks. Ah, so he’d gotten another quick crush on another pretty face. He didn’t blame the guy. Both of the girls were absolutely beautiful in their own ways. “I-”

“Wait, wait, they’re faeries, remember?” Coda said, stepping in front of his friend and clearing his throat. “You gotta do it a special way or they get your name and then can do…weird stuff with it.”

“Not that we’d use it, both of us are pretty nice people,” Tyra said with a giggle.

“You can call me Coda, my sister is called Esil, my cousin is called Alel, and this one right here is called Reyo,” Coda said, introducing everyone in turn with some pointing and some carefully chosen words. “I…think that was done right?”

Arista nodded, smiling just a touch. “You did, yes,” she said, giving a small clap. “You already know more than most travelers that come to our home. Still, I would be careful going places if you have never been here before.”

Remembering what his mother said about faeries liking deals, even good ones, light sprung in Coda’s mind. “Well…I know, what if you guys came with us? You could show us around, and we can tell you about our travels to other places,” he said, smile brightening. “That way we don’t get lost and you guys get something fun out of it.”

The two girls exchanged glances, Tyra’s own face sporting a wide smile of her own and Arista looking at least a little curious. “I think that’s a fair trade, what do you think, Aris?”

“I think that is more than suitable,” she replied, carefully walking over and looking at the map. “Where did you want to go again?”

Reyo shifted the little girl on his back and pointed out a couple of places marked on the map. “The Academy, the elves, possibly the ruins…”

“I was also thinking the natural history museum,” Alel said, closing her recorder and poking her head into the circle. “I hear they have a great exhibit on gemstone magic.”

“Ooh, ooh, Aris, you should take them to your place too,” Tyra said, taking a quill out of her pocket and circling a small manor to the south. “Let them see some _real_ book magic at work.”

“The enchanted lake is also not a bad idea…” Arista mused, pointing to another section of the map that showed a large irregularly shaped body of water.

Coda just watched everything with a smile plastered across his face. 

Oh, this was going to be a day for the history books.


	42. The Artificer and the Kobold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yorkshireraven: Writing request you say? How about that Arasten (and Zarzip) have a night on the town after a long testing day?

A bang resounded through the workshop as a thick black smoke spurted from the mechanical device. With barely a moment to lose, Arasten threw the cube-shaped drone into a bucket of water and covered her face with a cloth. Zarzip’s tortured wheezing was to her left, a confirmation that her little kobold friend was still conscious, if not in the best shape. Hacking the ash from her lungs, she slammed a lever down and threw open the pulley-controlled windows.

Four fans, three emergency fire blankets, two stubbed toes, and one long string of curse words later, the shop finally had breathable air and black soot lining every conceivable table and stool and spare parts box, and in Zarzip’s case, every single scale on his body.

“Should I mark that as a ‘the gods hate us’ or a ‘wow we fucked up’ in the log books?” he coughed before dunking his snout into one of the spare water buckets.

Pulling the goggles off of her face, Arasten took a deep sigh as she started polishing the lenses. “Let’s go with ‘magic makes gasoline explode, you dumbass’ and…let’s call it a day.”

“You got it, boss,” he said through the bubbles, picking up the bucket and dumping the rest of the water over his scales, washing away the soot until he was silver once more. “Did you want any of this?”

“Nah, I’ll just go change,” she said, tossing her goggles into a nearby bin and heading for her little room on board. A quick scrub down with a wet washcloth, a new set of work clothes, quick brush of the hair, and she was…well, respectable was too strong a word, but she certainly didn’t look like a chimney sweep, which was a decided improvement.

Smoothing out her vest, she threw open the door and was promptly greeted by a deluge of ice cold water and a bucket over her head.

“You know. I don’t know what I was expecting,” she said with a snort, tossing the offending object aside and looking down at the big eyed, shit-eating grin kobold.

“If the answer was ‘better’, I’m disappointed in you,” he said, playfully punching her leg. “We getting booze or what?”

“I think the Wilting Willow hasn’t kicked us out yet,” she replied with a grin, giving a nod to the docksman as she stepped onto the floating dock.

An audible groan trickled out of Zarzip’s snout. “Yeah, that’s cause their ale _sucks_ too much for me to tamper with. Tastes like donkey piss and doesn’t even take hallucinogens!” he exclaimed, sorting through his utility belt chocked to the brim with potions and vials. 

“Well, I thought you’d’ve figured out how to counter that by now, it’s our, what, fifth visit?” she replied with a shit eating grin of her own, eyes flickering to the setting sun. Another day gone, another day closer to the time she would have to return home. 

Ah well. Better make the most of it.

“One gold if you can spike that ale with that stunning potion,” she said, rummaging through her pack and flicking a coin into the evening light.

A mischievous grin flickered across his face. “You’re on.”


	43. Druids and Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had the bright idea to let people on tumblr submit fic prompts
> 
> This is what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dracodemortem: :3, Brethil and Rea meet each other. The world needs to see

“Right over here, Miss Archdruid,” the scout said, pulling down his hood and pointing to a bit of the tree line that lead up to the coast. Despite it being the middle of autumn, the leaves looked more like their spring counterparts, vibrant green and full of budding flowers. The grass underfoot was lush and green, no traces of fallen leaves or dead underbrush to be found.

Ever so carefully, Brethil reached out a hand and touched the bark. “When you said the plants were ‘becoming younger’, I thought that was exaggerated,” she said, looking back to the scout and frowning. Even without opening her senses to look for magic, it was clear that something powerful was seeping into the very land, something that was going to be hard to reverse. She knew that putting the planes back in order would yield some odd results, but this… “Anything else especially out of place?”

“A cliff collapsed a day or two ago, there’s been a notable increase in the seal population,” he replied with a small shrug, looking hesitantly at the forest. Those of the Gilded Grove were no stranger to otherworldly magic and planar influences, but this was something far outside the pay grade of a simple scout. “Do you want me to grab the rangers or…?”

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head and tapping a tree with her staff. “I’ll take a look around first and see just how much has been effected. I’d rather…not send people in unprepared.”

The scout nodded, backing up to the path and leaning against a normal autumn tree. “Call if you need anything…not that I’d be…much help against something that could impede a druid of your capabiliti…I’m going to stop talking now.”

Chuckling under her breath, she took a deep breath and stepped into the affected woods. The plants were easiest to see, well out of season despite the shortening days and cooling temperatures. Before long, rabbits bounded along, shedding their winter coats, and baby birds chirped high in the trees. Besides everything being jarringly out of season, however, nothing felt overtly wrong about what was happening. There was none of the obvious signs of fiends or evil fey, nothing that was outwardly celestial, nothing that was clearly a sign of planar influence.

This was all…natural somehow.

She heard the seals long before she saw them, the playful barking and splashing coming from a secluded cove. Alongside it, however, was a voice, powerful and yet surprisingly light in tone. Cheerful, possibly female. “Well don’t do that, you’re going to get hurt flopping like that, oh yes the water is a little too salty here for you, eugh, I know, there’s not enough _sun_ here at all,” she said, bouncing between what sounded like about seven or eight different conversations with utterly no one at all. “I’m glad you’re back in your proper home, all that shifting must’ve been scary, oh hi lady elf!”

Blinking once, then twice, Brethil stepped out of the trees to look down at the cove. Amongst the largest gathering of harbor seals she had seen in a century, an impossibly large dragon sat in the water, looking up at her with eyes darker than the spaces between the stars. Most of her body was beneath the waves, but willowy-branched wings rested on top of the water. Her scales looked as if they were crafted from wood, and instead of horns, great antlers rested on her head.

Well, she knew one thing for certain. She had never seen, heard, or read about a creature like this in her three hundred and fifty-one years of being on the Material Plane.

Wonderful.

“Um, hello there,” she said, walking to the edge of the cliff and keeping her staff close in hand. “I’m not…interrupting anything, am I?”

“Oh no, not all all!” she replied, raising her head up to get a better look as a couple of seals jumped over her back. “I’m just playing with all of my new friends. They have such interesting stories to tell of the world being all twisty and broken.”

“I would imagine, the seas must have been quite jarring to swim through,” Brethil said, relaxing ever so slightly. Seals tended to be decent judges of character, and their chatter was lighthearted and playful. Not outwardly evil, then, or at least not intentionally doing anything. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, who are you? I’ve never really seen a dragon like your kind before.”

The dragon giggled, bringing her snout even closer to the cliff’s edge. “I’m Rea, and I’m Restoration,” she said with the closest equivalent to a smile that could be put on a draconic face. Her eyes flickered back to the seals for a moment. “Yes, yes, I’ll be back in a second, calm down, you’re all so jumpy.”

“I’m Brethil, the Archdruid of these lands,” she replied with a smile of her own, now even more sure she had no idea who this dragon was or what that title even meant. Regardless, she was clearly a powerful force, and if there was anything that could intrinsically change the landscape, it was a dragon. “You wouldn’t by chance know why the plants are looking out of season, would you?”

Rea tilted her head upwards a little, eyeing the trees with wider eyes. “Ohhhhh that’s why they’ve been talking weird lately, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was still that strong, I can fix that for you if it’s too much of a problem.”

Still rather confused on what was even going on, Brethil gave a small nod, figuring it was best not to challenge something that looked bigger than Malira the Winged Winter, or at least, not do that alone. “I would appreciate that, yes. It has been raising some questions, especially with winter coming so soon.”

“Gotcha, no problem, druid lady Brethil,” she said with bright eyes, sinking back down into the surf. “Did you want to play too? If you’re a druid, you can turn into all kinds of stuff, just like me! We could go swimming together with everyone.” She turned to the seals. “Is she a good swimmer when she’s a seal? Really? No way that’s awesome.”

Sighing, Brethil took a seat on the edge of the cliff and swung her legs out. “Well, that depends. What exactly are you?”

“I’m the Dragon of Restoration, of course,” she replied with a smile. “Come on, just for a bit, please?”

She sighed. Whatever this was about to be, she had a feeling it was a bit outside her jurisdiction as the Archdruid, but if it was a way to get information on her, so be it. “Mind helping me down?”

Before she had time to think, a gentle pair of claws lifted her from the rock face and splashed her into the rapidly cooling autumn sea waters. Several dozen eyes turned to her with expectant eyes.

Swimming with a dragon the size of a small hill and a legion of seals. 

Still beat being trapped in a snow globe.


End file.
